Hitori, Futari
by Yaoi flame
Summary: Having been kicked out of the Lifestream, Yazoo seeks the truth about the purpose of life, love, and all the other human 'crap', as Kadaj puts it. He has a 'prosperous' career as a butcher,and everything seems perfect... Rating will turn to M eventually.
1. Remnant with a Job

**Very important AN: **After watching _Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children_ in HD (and in full length! Not to mention how much it's better this way both graphically and plot-wise than the abridged version I had and watched many times), I had this urge to write a fic. I wanted it to be more profound than the movie is. **Feedback is much appreciated! :) If I receive at least 6 reviews, I'll continue this. I don't want to sound like a bitch, but reviews are the only proof that somebody's actually reading this. Thank you in advance! Enjoy the story!  
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**Rating: M**

**Genre: Romance/Angst, maybe some humor later**

**Pairing: Yazoo/Reno**

**Disclaimer: I own only this story**

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**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 1: Remnant with a Job**

'Being alive again…' he mused. 'Being alive again…does it mean that we were privileged?' he still couldn't get used to the idea. He wondered what his brothers thought about the whole thing. Well, he didn't care much about Loz's opinion, since he didn't find him very smart. He was just a brute force, practically their brother's servant, slave, call it whatever, much as he himself was. But, unlike Loz, he possessed Sephiroth's charisma, beauty, and was pretty much smart. He smirked at the thought. Kadaj was not the only one who inherited wisdom from Sephiroth. Therefore, he cared to hear Kadaj's opinion on the subject.

Namely, the Lifestream had practically spitted them out several days after their infamous battle with Cloud and those stupid Turks. Nobody knew why, but it was a good thing they had been thrown out of that, well, _substance_. Luckily, they'd landed far, far away from Midgar, where no one could disturb them. They had to figure out what to do next. It was needless to say that the three of them were listless. There was nothing they could do now, when they'd been deprived of their original purpose of being alive. It had all been for Mother's sake. And now, without even that to cling onto, they were like empty husks. There was no purpose in carrying Sephiroth's genes when they served no purpose for him. Everything seemed dark and uncertain. And Yazoo wanted to know what Kadaj, their leader, thought about it. He wanted to know if his witty brother had any clue what to do with this absurd existence.

Still, the brother with the longest hair was aware of his brother's, so to say, condition. Kadaj had been in a deep depression for a while now. His usually loquacious self refused to speak to both Loz and him. He just sat there, on one rock, and looked somewhere in the distance. It appeared that his spirit had been broken together with that silly box, plastic box, no less, that represented their Mother. It was hard to believe that iron-willed, zealous youth could be so easily broken. Yazoo had no other choice but to believe it was so. Still, he wondered if he felt anything at all. For the most of the time, the Sephiroth's embodiment of charisma and beauty was indifferent to all the things around him. Not that he himself felt broken; it was in his nature to be cold-hearted, much as his creator had been.

He wondered if Kadaj was just in deep thought. If he was not, maybe it would be wise if he himself thought about what to do next. Besides, they had no mutual goal whatsoever, not anymore. Perhaps they should go separate ways and try to assimilate with the rest of the people. The hindrance would certainly be their trademark—hair color and mako eyes, but maybe it was worth trying. Maybe people could forgive and accept them, even if it was just a tiny possibility for such an outcome; Yazoo was willing to try.

The night was cloudless and it was cold. They were sitting around the fire; Kadaj's eyes were fixed on the fire before him, and he still looked apathetic, indifferent to his surroundings. The almighty fire, which was barely there, illuminated his pale, roundish face. Loz never knew how to set it, and Yazoo had no interest in it at all. Not at the moment. He had to think about his future. He had to think if he even deserved it, and if there _was_ any future for people like them. If they could be really called people. They were just somebody's remnants, villains who everybody hated and feared. Were they meant to look at this sky, to feel the breeze caress their faces, eat food, be with women, do anything? He didn't know if he needed anything. But still, he was willing to try.

Imagine how dreadful it would be to discover that you lived for something that was other man's memories, other man's goals, and his revenge, not yours. What it would it be if you could feel his presence in your head, in your entire body, and still don't know what it is? Only Kadaj knew, and it infuriated him, Yazoo could tell. When his brother had found out about Sephiroth, because he could feel him a lot better than Loz and him, he definitely _knew_ that something was _off_, and that they weren't doing it for themselves. What a terrible truth, to find out that you are just one third of some crazy man, who cannot leave stupid people alone even after his death.

Having no personality was stupid, Yazoo mused very often. Their Mother, it hadn't been their Mother at all. It had been just a means necessary for the only other thing they knew—_reunion_. At that time, they hadn't known why they needed it or what it was. It had just been a natural urge. Later on, when he was 'dead', everything was as clear as day. Mother was just means to make the three of them one entity.

Those discoveries were defeating, and as Yazoo thought more, he found his life more absurd. What did he know about himself? He was a sadist. He was evil. He liked fishy, dark doings. Hell, he'd even enjoyed when he drove those helpless and terrified children to Kadaj, so that the latter could 'cure' them. He never cared. He was bored when there was no action, and was thrilled when he fought and harmed people, and created chimera, of which they were afraid so much. He never liked to talk much, and was always getting infuriated when somebody offended Mother. Mother…that absurd term. That absurd excuse for their lives. He even thought that he had been given a new chance just in order to go find that redhead, that stupid Turk, and stuff his face with dynamite, just to let him taste his own medicine. But no. Yazoo knew that revenge was not why he had been given a new start. As far as he knew, there might be no reason at all.

"Hey, Kadaj", he started. His brother lifted his head in his wicked manner of his, looking at him through his silver bangs. Yazoo spoke languidly, as it was his wont at times. "I've been thinking for a while." He had their full attention. Loz was curious as to what Yazoo would say next.

"Yes?" the broken remnant encouraged him to proceed.

"I'm going to Midgar. I think we should all go." He said. "I think we should go to that shachou of yours and have him examine us." Kadaj's eyes had their old shine in them for just a millisecond. He whipped his brother with his venomous look.

"You think this life is given to us for _nothing_?" he asked, his beautiful turquoise eyes widened in some kind of bewilderment. "We have no power, not anymore." He admitted, the wickedness in his voice still there, but it had a tone of sadness to it. "We can't go there."

"I thought that it would be a good opportunity for us, Kadaj." Yazoo said, whining a bit with his manly voice. He looked as if he was bored. Undoubtedly, they were brothers, with their psychotic antics, such as strange looks, exaggerated gestures, almost theatrical (mostly Kadaj had them), and so on. Their voices, although they were completely different, Yazoo's being more manly, had the same tone of wickedness to them. "We can gain citizenship when they find us normal. And maybe we could just hope to find some job."

Kadaj shook his head, furiously standing up. "That's not you at all!" he walked to where Yazoo was sitting and bent down to have a better look at his face. " 'Hope to find some job'. What do you mean by that? To succumb to that society? To be their slaves. No!" he shook his arms demonstratively, and then started to circle around the fire. The two brothers followed him with their eyes. "We won't be anyone's employees or something equally stupid! We have some greater goal in life!" at this, he lifted his arms high in the air.

"B-but what goal, brother?" Loz managed to ask in a deep, silent, voice. It was wavering a bit. "We already died once. Mother—Mother is no longer there…" at the mention of her name, his voice wavered some more; he was on the verge of tears now. "We are…trash." Kadaj turned his head towards him in a predatory manner, his eyes narrowing. "I think that Yazoo has the point."

"That was to be expected of you anyway, since you're such a crybaby, Loz." Kadaj gently retorted. There was some cynicism in his voice, as if he was struggling with his rage and brotherly love. But, knowing Kadaj, that could as well not be the case here. "But you, Yazoo…That's so…"

"Out of my character?" Yazoo finished for him. "But, Kadaj…" he started with a whiny voice yet again. "How do you know it is really me, anyway? What is my personality? I'm just _his_ remnant, part of his mind." He shrugged. "How can you, or I—for that matter— know that I'm _me_? _Who_ am I?" Kadaj was processing the thought for a few moments, then concluded that there was some truth in his brother's words.

"Let me tell you something." Kadaj continued going around the fire, swaying his hips. "No matter how human we are now, they will never give us the citizenship. We'll never get out of there alive. Moreover, even if you find the job, which I doubt you will, when they find out you're in town, no matter how much your employer praised you, they wouldn't care. They would just take you away and—BAM!" he suddenly turned, his eyes ready to pop out, his face only inches apart from Yazoo's. "You're gone." He finished, and finally sat beside his brother. "Got my point, huh?"

Yazoo looked somewhere aside. "Yes, I do." He said. "But I will try anyway. I don't care if ShinRa finds out about us, or me there. I will fight them, as always." He looked self-confident. "I am able to take care of myself. That's the least I know." Several minutes passed in silence, and then Kadaj turned to Yazoo, the same old shine in his eyes.

"Then go to Midgar." He said. "I will go to Forgotten City. I have some plans there. If you ever realize how your plan is stupid, I will be generous enough to forgive you. And then you can join me and Loz." He had that evil smirk attached to his face. Yazoo wondered if he even had Loz's consent on this. Probably not. So they would go separate ways, after all.

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The day was gray and everything on earth seemed so lifeless. Wasteland. A furious motorbike was ripping the air; silver, long hair was fluttering behind its owner like a flag. It was silky and beautiful, but a bit damp because of humidity, which made the air so heavy. Before him was the endless Midgar skyline, grayish and unattractive. He had already made his decision and was not to back out. He wanted to do it. He wanted to do anything, to try to live.

It was early Monday morning, and people were still at their homes, which was exactly what Yazoo wanted. He didn't want to draw the unnecessary attention. However, the sound of his bike was a totally different story. While he was driving, he was wondering what he wanted to do. What kind of job? Would he like to do some _legal_ job? Or…?

He parked his massive bike on the somewhat secluded place, and headed for a walk. It was the same as he remembered—all gray, all dark, all sorrowful, city in ruins, post-apocalyptic scene. He licked his lips in delight. It was so lifeless. People were desperate. They were poor. Healthy now, but poor. At least that was how he saw it. He was of the same colors—tight black leather cloak, long, sliver hair, and mako eyes. That was his first step to assimilation, he thought.

After several hours of aimless walking through some suspicious alleys and avoiding people that were slowly beginning to gather and go to their respective works, he stopped in front of some butchery. They needed a worker. Yazoo tilted his head aside. 'This is interesting.' He thought. He could work on all kinds of meat, and see all that blood. It was still imprinted in his nature, that bloodlust. If only he could see blood and cut that meat, it could be enough. It could be a good starting point. At that moment, he liked it. But maybe he would come to hate it. He needed to know his preferences. 'Yeah, definitely good.' He took the ad from the window and entered the shop. He hoped he could act as normal as possible. He found the middle-aged man with black mustache at the counter.

"Good morning, I'm looking for a job." He said. 'Good morning…I think that's the expression'. He hoped he'd sounded polite. But then again, what was politeness anyway?

The owner looked at him a bit suspiciously, as if trying to recall where he had seen him. But soon his smile replaced his skepticism. "Yes. If you know how to work with a cleaver, then the job's yours." He shrugged.

Yazoo nodded his head. "Yeah, I have some experience." Actually, he had none. But cleaver sounded fun, so why not trying it?

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**AN**: I hope it's good for a start. Once again, please write a review!

**The title:** **Hitori, Futari:** hitori (jap.) one person, being alone; futari (jap.) two people, a couple


	2. A Surprised Turk

**AN:** Hi, guys! Don't think I forgot about you! I was absent for two weeks and couldn't access the Internet. Now that I'm here, I'll do my best to make this story enjoyable. On your part, please support my writing by reviewing, to keep this story in life. Thank you in advance and please do enjoy it!

The story might seem somewhat crude in the beginning, but this is just an introduction. As (and _if_) the story progresses, it will be profounder, sexy, angsty, everything! :)

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**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 2: A Surprised Turk**

It was the day just like any other-the same outfit, the same hairstyle (which he found oh so cool, and many people actually thought it was-apart from ones who didn't care, such as Tifa, Cloud, and the rest of that gang…And Rufus, probably, and his best friend, roommate, and colleague, Rude, and, well, all those AVALANCHE people, and his fellow Turks, and…almost all people he knew, truth be told), his extremely dangerous rod, and Rude by his side, with orders from the President to 'take care' of a certain guy (or, sometimes, a woman, but this time it was some guy). It was late at night-probably past midnight- as they headed it the dark depths of ruined Midgar, to a certain infamous bar, to look for that person and assassinate him. Nothing out of the usual, except for the fact that they were going to Midgar, something they hadn't done in ages. All their jobs concentrated in Edge. Reno was thinking about this for a bit, but dropped it as something relatively irrelevant.

The sky was unnaturally dark, and somewhere high above the clouds, you could see segments of Lifestream, like beautiful green serpents encircling the Planet. It looked surreal, but somehow soothing. Below clouds was vast dry land, cracked because of the sun that had died several hours prior, only to be born several hours later. They still had time until dawn-about five hours or so. The night had just begun, anyway. The air around them seemed heavy; one could think it would rain soon, but knowing the nature of the winds here, Reno knew that those clouds above would just be taken far away by them, and not a single raindrop would grace the ground tonight.

Many voices and muffled music could be heard from the distance, and dim lights ahead of them indicated that they would soon reach their destination. The bar was famous for its high-class prostitutes and dancers of both genders. Before leaving, Reno had gathered some information on the bar's program for that night, and was delighted to read the news that tonight only girls performed. The bar was also famous for fights and murders, and the authorities never dared to step a foot inside. The area was the anarchy of all anarchies; you could indulge in any vice: from gambling to something much worse, that is, if you had enough money to pay; pain and pleasure mingled so that you would go insane; death and greatest physical joys of life; the bar provided everything and welcomed only notorious people. Therefore, it was no wonder the 'bad guy' was there anyway, 'pain in the ass' for their boss, the almighty Rufus Shinra.

While Rude was driving, Reno scanned through the files on his laptop, scrolling the bar until the image of said man appeared. He was doing his best to memorize it, but that wasn't a problem at all; he had a sharp eye and a good intuition. The guy was some irrelevant drug dealer. He didn't know why Rufus wanted him dead, but it wasn't his duty to know anyway. He was there to kill and retreat as silently as possible. It was the way his boss preferred most.

They parked on the parking lot in front of the bar. All kinds of cars and bikes were scattered all around, and on some of them some punks in leather were sitting, or leaning against them, talking silently, or even eyeing each other, looking for the best place on their opponents' body they could pierce with their hidden knives and guns, but that was nothing out of the ordinary yet again. Reno just yawned. 'This will be so easy to do. We just need to find the guy.' He cockily got out of the vehicle, followed by Rude, who wore his sunglasses, even though everything around him was, naturally, pitch black. Reno's long ponytail swayed as he moved, his Electro-Mag Rod discreetly hanging on his hip. He looked as a rebel, which suited the occasion, luckily, but there was some grace to his figure, in his suit jacket and unbuttoned dress shirt underneath it. Even though he was a bit thin, the clothing suited him perfectly, allowing him to move around, yet look, well, elegantly disheveled.

Upon entering, one enormous cloud of cigarette smoke met with his face, but he looked unfazed, obviously used to that too. He looked around, in order to locate the target, and Rude was doing the same. This had been their routine ever since the beginning of the Universe, you could say. Reno knew he was lucky to have such a compatible colleague and friend. Sometimes he would find it kind of scary, though, their ability to converse without opening their mouths.

The music was loud and tasteless, some techno shit, as Reno mentally labeled it. It was dark and stuffy, and impossibly cramped, though the bar vas very spacious. He would have sat and talked to the bartender a bit, but he didn't feel like shouting, so he just carried on, his eyes scanning the faces of hookers and punks, remembering several people-they were mostly bikers that somehow knew Cloud, and always asked him to start racing, since the blond was, obviously, good at it. He made some acquaintances with them, but wasn't in the mood to talk to them, nor had he time for such a thing-he had a job to finish anyway. Fluorescent lights cast light here and there; green, pink, yellow…Whores danced naked around the pole, so delicate, so professional, so beautiful…and so fake. He knew most of them didn't enjoy their jobs, and they had those forced smiles on their porcelain faces, and heavy make-up wasn't helping at all. However, he had to admit that their leather-clad bodies were rather enticing.

Speaking of Cloud-no, they weren't friends or anything close to that, if you thought that. They preferred to remain just acquaintances, former enemies. Tifa liked to invite Reno and Rude sometimes, to keep her company and help her with delivery when Cloud was too much loaded with work himself. So, when they hung out together due to 'certain circumstances', as known as Tifa Lockheart, Reno met some of those bikers, and that was all.

However, he thought that, after finishing his job, he might as well have some fun himself, with those whores, or dancers, whatever. Not that he had problems finding one ordinary girl, quite the contrary, but this way was more exciting for him: I'll pay you and I'll never see you again. No unwanted feelings. It had been, after all, six months since he'd broken up with Elena, his co-worker. But that was another story. So, he approached one hostess, dancer, whore, call it whatever, for they were three in one, actually, wrapped one arm around her slim waist and whispered in her ear. He was positive that he felt her shiver from his touch.

"How about one lap dance later, sugar?" he purred into her ear, smirking. He was obviously self-satisfied to no extent. She turned her head slightly, so that their noses were touching.

"Sure thing, handsome. Just look for me after the race is over." She said in a flirtatious tone. Reno was still holding her close.

"The race?" he asked.

"Yeah, a motorbike race. It's gonna be very exciting, as it always is. Just come, it starts in the field behind the bar. I'll be there, honey." She smiled. "Because just now, my shift is officially over, and the race is starting in ten minutes." She turned around and threw her arms around his neck, playing with his long ponytail. It wasn't his wont to forget about his mission, but this piece of hot flesh seemed enticing. Besides, he had Rude to inform him of anything that might occur. Highly unprofessional from his side, he had to admit. But that would be his first time, so he thought there would be no problems. As soon as he assassinated that stupid junkie, he would watch the race and enjoy an exotic lap dance…maybe he would even indulge in a delirious sex with this rare bird…even though one-night stands weren't really his style. The girl looked quite beautiful and talkative. She had her eyes half open, swaying to the rhythm of the music, still embracing Reno. "But I don't mind having you as my customer, even though the shift is over. Still…" she continued in a singsong voice. " That would cost you some extra cash." She brushed her lips against his. He felt he was beginning to sweat, his hands glued to her latex-clad butt...How did those hands get there, he wondered. Usually, he was a gentleman…

"Sure, babe." He said. "No problem, yo!" She winked at him, untangling her arms from his neck, and he released her butt. Then, with one seductive sway, she turned around and disappeared in the crowd. Reno could swear it was a bit hotter and stuffy than before. But he had to suppress his animal instinct of a male who hadn't had sex for a while now, and was desperate to get laid. But that wasn't the problem, really. Most of the time he was occupied with work, so he never noticed such things. He loved his job, after all, and was the best at it, ranked right below Tseng.

He lifted his head, scanning the crowd in search of Rude, and when he finally found him, he made his way through the mass of people to get to him. His partner looked somewhat uneasy.

"While you were in your love pursuits, I found the target, eliminated him, and disposed of his corpse." Rude was shouting in his ear.

"Oh yeah? And how did you manage to do it in two whole minutes, and that's how much it took me to talk to her?" Reno inquired. "Not to mention you had your sunglasses on all the time, and it's dark enough without them anyway." He remarked. " ...and it wasn't love pursuit-she's a prostitute." He added, as if it were a normal thing. Rude cleared his throat, but decided against asking Reno further about it.

"I take my pride as a Turk, and I _do_ my job, Reno. " Rude said flatly, as much as it was possible anyway, because of the noise. How he had done it so fast would always remain a secret. Reno found it irrelevant. He knew that the credits would go to both of them either way. He gently punched his friend's arm and smiled.

"That's fine with me, yo! Now let's go see that race the prostitute was talking about." Rude raised one of his thin eyebrows in question, but followed Reno to the back of the bar wordlessly.

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Adrenaline rush-that held sentimental value, almost melancholic. The sound of the engine, and not to mention classical feeling of the wind messing with your hair, ruining your hairstyle in the process, of course, and all the other details. Being a butcher every day wasn't half the fun, even though in that job there was a lot more blood. But he wasn't the one to experience such an exciting ride, at least not soon. He was sitting in his cozy armchair, in the back of the butchery.

His house and his shop were in the same house; that was one of the rare buildings in Midgar that were older than fifty years, and still standing. According to the Law, he didn't have to pay taxes, since the building was very old, practically a monument. It didn't look anything special, just a dilapidation with two apartments-the one behind the store, and the one upstairs. Actually, the latter was a redecorated attic, with one bedroom, a kitchenette, and one small bathroom. The stairs leading to the entrance of that apartment were some old concrete stairs in the back of the house, matching the dreadful color of the façade. What was that color…? Beige? No, it looked more like gray, or something akin to birds' droppings, and it smelled dreadfully. But his new worker never complained, so he didn't mind. It was a perfect apartment for a loner like him anyway, so what if it reeked a little?

He was sitting in his comfortable armchair, too lazy to go to bed (his wife had died long ago), dozing off, remembering his old days as an experienced biker. He'd told his new employee about such races a moth ago, and tonight was one of those races…Hopefully, Yazoo wouldn't go to such lengths as to indulge and ride…

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Adrenaline rush-that held sentimental value, almost melancholic. The sound of the engine, and not to mention classical feeling of the wind _trying _to mess with your hair, unsuccessfully though, since his hair was thick, long and straight as an arrow; the feeling of power and defiance to gravity, speed, and many memories he had obtained while riding his beautiful massive bike, they were all there.

He was about to revive his memories again. Despite the fact that he had been living a peaceful life as a butcher for a month now, that is, seven months since he'd been, with his brothers, thrown out of the Lifestream, he couldn't help but obey the remains of his other side-the wicked one. He had to feel it again, and smirk and laugh as he defeated his opponents, one by one. Oh, that was so great; it sent shivers down his spine; it delighted him so much, for he was, after all, versatile when it came to riding; he could join the circus for all he cared-he knew how to ride it so well, to avoid all dangers and represent a danger, do all kinds of things, unimaginable things, while riding it… and that awakened his memories with Loz and Cloud, and later that darn Turk who'd stuffed his face with dynamite…Which didn't matter much now. He was so excited, but he had to focus and keep his cool, as he always did. For half a month now, every week, he won the race, leaving them all agape; he'd earned respect, and people looked at him in awe. They knew his name, but they knew nothing else. Just like he wanted. He didn't want to be legendary; he just wanted to have fun.

That was clear to Reno, too when he saw him, his mouth agape in shock. He blinked several times. 'This guy was supposed to be dead', he mused. 'But like Sephiroth, they just keep coming back…' he bit his lower lip, displeased with his new discovery. So the remnant never changed-he loved his bike, and would put in danger all those pricks who thought _they_ were tough guys. 'Well better beware of Yazoo, yo!' he kept musing bitterly. 'Maybe he looks feminine, but he's deadlier than you think he is.' That's where Mako eyes spotted him. The man took off his bike, his head tilted to his right, his eyes never leaving Reno's face. He was smirking, while walking gracefully.

"Well, well, well…Look who I see." He emphasized every word, addressing Reno, and casting a glance in Rude's direction. The girl in Reno's embrace first looked at Yazoo, then at Reno. The redhead released the prostitute, and she slightly withdrew. Yazoo stood before him, never ceasing to smirk.

"What an honor." Reno said sarcastically, snorting. "But we did have our moments, I guess."

"We certainly had." Yazoo replied. Then, as if he'd remembered something very important, he brought his right gloved hand to his forehead, and then dropped it slowly, gracefully, looking at Reno indifferently. "I have some business with you." He said. "But first…are you for a ride?" he asked, his voice deep as ever, but somewhat languid. Reno frowned.

"Why would I do that, yo?" He asked, clearly showing with his gestures and tone of voice that he was displeased with seeing Yazoo. He'd, after all, terrorized people, kidnapped innocent children, and whatnot. Not to mention that he'd survived his super kickass final blow, better known as ShinRa's 'finest piece of technology', dynamite. The prostitute in her tight black pants and glittering bra, and his suit jacket draped around her shoulders, squeaked how he shouldn't refuse Yazoo, since he was their champion, and had never lost before. Reno wondered if the remnant ever fucked her, since he noticed she was looking at him in invitation and he didn't care to look in her direction at all.

"Fine, yo! Let's do it!" he finally said, and Yazoo smirked contently.

"You won't be disappointed." He said, and started walking toward his bike. Reno followed him, observing him closely from behind: the silver haired man had a tight, long black coat, which suited him just fine-it was a nice piece of clothing indeed. He had dark knee-length boots, and black gloves. However, his attire was different than before; he kept his coat open, he had a black turtleneck underneath. He noticed that there were no weapons, no bulges to indicate that he had any whatsoever.

A fat man with a greasy black hair, who looked pretty nasty to the redhead, stopped the remnant, and they exchanged a few words. He didn't want to intrude their personal space, so he stood aside, waiting for Yazoo. He could hear some pieces of conversation, and figured that the man was apparently some organizer or a judge in the race, and that he wasn't fine with Reno participating.

"He will not interfere. You know that I always do my job alone."

"You could use some of the accessories, too, you know. Not to bring this guy as a shield…"

"As I said…"

Reno tapped his foot impatiently, hearing something like 'get killed' and saw a bit worried expression of the man, and Yazoo's unfazed one. Yazoo turned, his long hair swaying over his shoulders as he did so, and motioned that they should go. Reno nodded and followed, straddling the bike behind the remnant.

He heard the gunshot somewhere close to his ear, or so was the impression, and the bikes roared. Yazoo's was no exception, and they embarked on their journey to victory and fame…or death, Reno thought ominously. Despite himself, he wrapped his arms around Yazoo's waist tightly, he didn't want to fall off, plus this was his first experience riding the bike; the speed was incredible, and he could only see the silhouettes of people, then people, who cheered eagerly, disappeared. They were replaced by ruined buildings, then he recognized the road, but couldn't quite see much because of the speed; the wind was affecting his sight, so he carefully detached one arm from Yazoo's waist and put his goggles on, replacing the arm immediately.

"Whoa…" was all he could say, as he saw how fast Yazoo's opponents were passing beside them, or it was _them_ who werepassing the opponents; either way, they looked evil and he saw…wait, they had knives, guns, maces, and some of them, to his dread, sharp points attached to the wheels. He'd read somewhere that in Ancient Rome-that would be on Earth, with which Gaia had a trading contract- had similar races, but more primitive ones, with the same points attached to the wheels…He felt dizzy all of a sudden, but he had to trust Yazoo and stay focused, if he wanted to remain alive. He pressed tighter against other man's back and placed his lips beside his ear.

"I'm pretty sure this is called cheating, yo!" He shouted over Yazoo's shoulder. Yazoo tilted his head a bit and then shouted back.

"No! That's the rules. Actually, there are none!" he informed the redhead. Reno felt his stomach clench as a fist. He'd better trust Yazoo, he knew what he was doing, but…he hadn't seen him armed. Maybe he had some additions on his bike…

"I gather you don't have any guns or such…Does your bike have some?" At this, Yazoo just chuckled loudly, and Reno took it as 'no'. So they were doomed.

"Just brace yourself!" he said, and they went faster. The silver haired youth felt his blood boil and his eyes were glued to the road, sometimes throwing glances at his opponents, and he smirked wider and wider. They went along the road, which Reno now recognized fully-it was the old ruined Midgar highway, the one where the great chase with Cloud and Yazoo's brothers had taken place seven months prior. The redhead was barely aware of the wind that was running through his hair, and that his ponytail was fluttering behind him, and that Yazoo's silver hair was getting into his nose and mouth. All he could hear was the roaring of the bikes, gunshots, and shouts. Yazoo was chuckling every now and then.

They were practically flying, or so it was how it felt, and it felt so liberating. He maneuvered his bike skillfully, avoiding bullets and attacks of maces by ducking just in time; they couldn't slice even one hair of his, and he felt god-like and free as a bird, as much as one could possibly be. He could feel Reno's grip tighten around him, and he wondered if his companion would survive this journey-he was taking good care of him during the ride, regarding various weapons and such things, but heart attacks were a different story. He could feel Reno's heart pound so fast against his back, but the man was trying to suppress his fear, he could tell.

"Hahahaha" he voiced his amusement with Reno. He looked so inferior to him now, but that was irrelevant. Toying with him a bit wouldn't do any harm. He was a new man now, and in his new life, he didn't bear any grudges against the redhead, or so was his intention.

The landscapes changed rapidly; they'd even survived the spot where the road ended, and went through the ruins without a scratch. By this time, Reno had noticed that there were half opponents less than in the beginning. Yazoo propped his bike up on one wheel and accelerated, and briefly closed his eyes in delight, feeling his machine purr so flawlessly as they were approaching the bar again.

They arrived first, and some other men arrived later, but Reno was still gripping Yazoo tightly, his goggles foggy from all that sweat, so he couldn't see anything. Yazoo elbowed him to let him know that it was over, and Reno lifted his head and looked around, dazed. Then he remembered that he was still hugging Yazoo and released him immediately, muttering some incoherent apologies and curses. Little did he know that Yazoo wasn't finished with him yet… or at all, for that matter.

He distractedly dismounted the bike, stumbling over his own feet on his way to where Rude stood, amused. The prostitute was applauding, as well as the rest of the crowd.

Meanwhile, the fat man from before approached Yazoo, and the youth learned that seven out of nineteen bikers hadn't survived, and that he was surprised that he and Reno won without a scratch.

"He looks as if he shitted into his pants" the man remarked.

Yazoo raised one of his delicate eyebrows. "It wouldn't be a surprise if he did." He said.

"Now seriously" said the man, "Even though I thought you'd die today for certain, I still betted on you and it paid off!" he smirked contently.

Reno had discovered the dark statistic about deaths of riders from Rude and how they'd been able to watch the entire race via large screens Reno hadn't noticed earlier for apparent reasons, and then he looked at Yazoo, who was talking to that greasy man again. Now engrossed in his matter, he was desperate to know what Yazoo was doing there, why he wasn't dead, and a bunch of other questions. He didn't look any different apart from his new dressing style, and he'd felt his breathing before, beneath his fingers, the ribcage spreading and narrowing, and he was somewhat warm, which indicated that he was indeed alive. He apologized to the prostitute, and explained that he'd pay the double sum for her lap dance next time, or sex, or whatever she chose, and he told Rude not to talk about this to anyone. Then he moved in Yazoo's direction.

At that same time, Yazoo turned his head to look for him, and when he saw he was coming, he just nodded his head in approval. He then turned to look at the fat man.

"Here's your share." Said the organizer of the race, and shoved something that looked a lot of money, lots and lots of cash, as Reno saw it, under Yazoo's nose, but the remnant refused, his face blank.

"Better for me, I guess." The man then said. "But it's strange how you never take the prize." Yazoo discarded him as if he hadn't said anything at all and turned to Reno.

"I still need you. Come with me." He said in a deep, melodious voice. Reno just nodded and they mounted the bike again, leaving everything behind.

* * *

They stopped before some ruin, and Yazoo told him to follow him into the backyard. They climbed some steps, and the redhead couldn't help but admit to himself that the yard had a stench, but when they entered the small apartment, it was surprisingly neat. He estimated in his head that the place consisted of a kitchenette, which he hadn't seen yet, a bedroom which was a living room, as well, with one spacious bed, ironed white sheets-he started to wonder if Yazoo had done the ironing- and one floor lamp, which was now turned on, casting dim light over the white walls. It didn't look bad at all and it didn't stink, Reno thought, and found himself in wonder. Yazoo was managing pretty well, apparently. The bathroom was probably the door next to the kitchenette.

The kitchenette didn't have the door, but was connected with the bedroom directly, and was spacious enough for the fridge and stove, and one small table with three chairs, and that was about it. But it didn't feel narrow; it was well-kept, or more likely, wasn't used at all.

He felt free to sit on the bed. He watched Yazoo take off his coat and hang it in the closet, and cleared his throat.

"So this is where you live, huh." He tried to start a conversation. "Nice." He added, falling back on the mattress, arms supporting the back of his head. Yazoo looked at him coldly. He felt that he should go straight to the point, for he knew that this little paradise of his would end soon if he didn't find the Turk and conveyed his plan. Truth be told, it could as well fail, and in that case Kadaj would be one in the right, but he had to take his chances.

What was Kadaj to him anyway? Perhaps just his partner in crime. Maybe they weren't brothers anymore. Either way, he doubted that they had any brotherly love, or love in general, for that matter, for one another. But he left those thought aside. He had to concentrate on his goal.

"I need you to take me to Rufus Shinra immediately." He said. Reno shifted into sitting position in an instant, trying to follow Yazoo's train of thought.

"What for?" the redhead asked, but Yazoo just snorted. "Besides, it's four in the morning."

"I don't care. Wake him up." Yazoo retorted, his voice cold, deprived of any emotion. "I need to see him."

* * *

**AN: **There you go! I hope you liked this and enjoyed it, as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please R&R, so that I would continue this! At least 6 reviews, please!

**P.S.** I always tend to leave the characters in character, and I have been successful so far. I hope I managed to do so with this story too. But as the story progresses, there is a high possibility that the characters will change, since they're developing here.

**P.P.S. I hope that I will manage to write something that will include a guest appearance of ~Sephiroth~ The music I listened to while writing about the race is "Those Who Fight".**


	3. Yazoo's Request

**AN:** Hi there! I got six reviews, and, as promised, as soon as I found time, I wrote the next chapter! Well, it's not that I have much time, or free time at all, but I kinda slack off at the worst possible moment, but that's another story…

Although I wish there were more reviews, I appreciate you, my faithful reviewers, and you're my big support! I'm kindly asking you to recommend this fic to anyone who might love Reno/Yazoo pairing (or FFVII yaoi in general), as well as to encourage them to review! Writing a review doesn't bite, just to let you know. :)

Please enjoy yourselves and make sure to review!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 3: Yazoo's Request**

Reno was observing the remnant from his position on the bed, and it looked that Yazoo was more than serious about it. But why was it such an urgent matter? Reno couldn't help but wonder, as he examined the silver-haired youth's face as thoroughly as he could, in search of some…oddities he might find, but that was so useless, since Reno knew quite well that he would find none. He was still in wonder, and was trying to figure out why Yazoo was alive.

"Even if I make a call, I'll have to call Tseng, not Rufus directly, yo!" he remarked. "You know Tseng, the one you little bastards beat to a pulp that time." He gritted his teeth a bit at the mention of that incident. Still, for that brief moment, he had been in charge of Turks, in Tseng's absence, and it felt quite nice…But, on the other hand, it hadn't been only Tseng that they had molested, but Elena, too…And that made Reno so bitter. If he hadn't been so confused about the whole thing, he would've probably been infuriated, and would bear grudge against Yazoo.

"Then do so." Yazoo said coldly, not even bothering to acknowledge the additional details on Tseng's identity. But it made him remember that Tseng was Reno's direct superior, and not Rufus. "Call your boss. I need to see Rufus Shinra." He didn't know why he was in such a hurry. Perhaps because it was the right opportunity, and having met Reno all of a sudden, it appeared as the present from Heavens. True, they could've just exchanged phone numbers and remained in contact, but taking their past into the account, something as normal as that was out of the question. Not in the million years had Yazoo thought about having a normal conversation with Reno, of all people. He never had proper conversations, to begin with, and was just about to start to learn about normal life.

True, he knew some basic things; for instance, the trio had to buy cell phones, and, well, steal bikes, and learn how to ride them; they had to learn some useful expressions, such as, 'the black sheep in the family', a cold remark told by Kadaj, referring to Cloud. And guns, he had to master shooting, and martial arts, too…It had all happened too fast; they had to do everything as quickly as possible, in order to accomplish their mission, the purpose of their existence. He remembered working hard to achieve all that had been expected of him. In the course of two years, he had been through childhood and adolescence, and eventually reached adulthood. Pretty haste, when he thought about it now, since he'd, actually, never had time to reflect too much on it in the past.

Finding a workplace, finding this apartment, his small refuge, was good enough for him. He felt self-satisfied, and now he just had to establish some details, in order to move on with his plans. He was so eager about it, even though you couldn't see it on his face. It was one more thing he had to work on, in order not to look like some emotionless bastard, but that was not included in his plans…at least not now.

He was looking down on Reno, who had already made himself comfortable, sitting on his bed and looking around, the entire place under his scrutiny. Yazoo wondered how he was able to do that, considering how dangerous he had been in every their encounter. Why did he have that laid-back attitude? Could it be possible that he already _trusted_ Yazoo? However, all these questions flashed through the silver haired youth's brain in a flash, and he didn't really give it much thought.

"Shouldn't we at least wait until morning? You know…seven o'clock or something?" the redhead asked. He couldn't help but be more curious about entire Yazoo's appearance, the place where he lived (not to mention it was very neat), and his reasons behind his persistence to see his boss.

Yazoo didn't say anything, he just snorted, as he usually did around Reno, and turned his back toward him, as if he weren't there at all, and took his black turtleneck off. When he was done with that, wordlessly, he sat on the bed next to Reno, who had to scoot over a bit, so that Yazoo could actually sit, and started undoing laces and straps on his deep black leather boots. Reno was, naturally, curious, for he could only be that due to this unexpected development, and took a look at the remnant's boots. Having thoroughly examined them, he found that they were of some fine quality, and he added it to his mental notes. There was a low possibility that such an information could be useful to him in the future, but what he'd seen was imprinted in his memory.

Yazoo took his boots off, leaving them so carelessly, to lie there on the floor, which was a complete contrast to what Reno had expected him to do. Given the fact that it was apparent Yazoo was meticulous about everything, he never thought that this …person would so recklessly leave so beautiful boots on the floor, for someone to trip over them or something.

Barefoot, and in only in his black pants and tight, black, sleeveless undershirt, Yazoo stood up, and headed toward the closet, opening it and browsing through his black garments and underwear, as if Reno weren't there at all. His guest observed him, frantically taking mental notes, as if he were some kind of a computer, or, rather, robot. Yazoo was tall, slim individual; despite he had been blown into the air, and then finished off by Cloud, he was standing there, as if nothing had happened at all; not even a scar from Cloud's sword, no visible damage could be found. Naturally, Reno's first thought would be Dr Hojo's doings, but the lunatic was dead.

The remnant seemed pretty strong and healthy, and quite lively, and agile. Reno briefly recalled the race that had taken place only an hour ago. Yazoo'd maneuvered the bike quite skillfully; he'd been able to do it only with his strong hips and legs, lifting it up, drifting, spinning around, avoiding attacks that had been only audible to Reno, but not all of them visible as well. Not only was he agile, he had fast reflexes, good instincts, and enjoyed the ride to the fullest. When they'd dismounted that powerful machine, Reno's legs were shaking, his face was paler than ever, whereas Yazoo was still so composed, as if nothing had happened at all. He hadn't even flinched at the mention of those who died. 'Cold-blooded son of a bitch', Reno thought, but then again, he himself never flinched at such things; but that was part of his job. However he looked at it, their two emotional states, despite them appearing similar, were completely different.

When Yazoo found what he was looking for, he turned toward Reno, looking at him with indifferent eyes. "Please be kind and call him already." He said. "While I take a shower." He was feeling awful, with all that sweat which made his skin itch. "Be good and do as I say." With those words, he disappeared behind the bathroom door, neatly folded clothes in his arms.

Reno arched his delicate eyebrow. 'What the fuck?' he thought, but he knew that if he had to get rid of this confusion, which irritated him to no end, he had to call Tseng and organize the meeting. Not sure if he was still sane, he fished his phone out of the pocket, and dialed the number.

* * *

At first, Tseng had been suspicious, and thought that his subordinate was drunk. It had taken Reno a good deal of explaining to reassure him that the redhead was telling the truth. Besides, Reno would never lie, and he always took his job seriously. When it came to accomplishing his missions, Reno was the best Turk you could ever wish for. So the black haired man gave in, and believed in his story, that one of the remnants was still alive and requested to see the President.

Reno hung up and sighed. The muffled sound of running water splashing over the tiles could be heard from the bathroom, which reminded him how he himself felt dirty and sticky and desperately needed a shower. But that was out of the question, at least for now. Sure, that bathroom seemed so tempting; he could just ask Yazoo if he could take a shower there, but then again, they weren't neither friends, nor acquaintances. They were more like what Cloud and he were, or not even that. He could always ask Cloud to take a shower at his place, and, well…maybe Tifa would say it was fine to do so. Cloud would do it, too, or maybe not…Not to mention change of clothes, Reno mused. But such thoughts were stupid, irrelevant, and he tried to think of something else, while waiting for Yazoo.

He recalled further happenings. He'd talked to Rude, apologized to the prostitute, and turned around…to see Yazoo's face, his poisonous eyes searching for him in the crowd like two deadly lasers. Reno would never forget that expression on Yazoo's face-it looked less pale than before, eyes changed their color a bit, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips; those eyes…tired, lazily scanning through the crowd…he looked as if he was riding the last waves of his orgasm. Reno would be stupid if he hadn't noticed so far, that Yazoo was some kind of an adrenaline addict, and that such an insane race would replace a night of good, hard, delirious fucking. Yes, Yazoo looked as if he had just come, hard and perhaps several times in a row, his face peaceful and satisfied.

Reno knew the feeling very well, inability to suppress a smile of satisfaction, as you doze off, your body still trembling…But this was something else. He'd been scared to death, he who'd survived a helicopter crash and whatnot in his lifetime, but Yazoo had been taking pleasure out of such brutal things.

He remembered his evil smirk when he'd made his bike fly and reach his helicopter, enter it so that he could shoot at the poor redhead, and then fall perfectly on the hot asphalt, as its owner looked up into the sky, satisfied with what he'd accomplished. The helicopter had been losing its height rapidly, descending somewhere…Reno could remember all those faces Yazoo'd made; his facial muscles seemed paralyzed, yet he could distinguish the man's feeling of satisfaction when they had been in hand-to-hand combat, and feeling of boiling anger when the redhead had insulted Jenova. All these recollections made Reno keep himself in check, and go with the flow. The more he spent his time waiting for Yazoo, the more he wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

He could now hear the sound of a hairdryer, which indicated that Yazoo was almost finished. The very thought of Yazoo sleeping, eating, taking a shower, and drying his hair seemed so illogical to Reno, who never considered the youth a human being who lived such a life. Seeing him barefoot, with undershirt had the same effect on him. Yazoo knew how to protect himself from cold, he knew when he reeked and needed refreshment; his neatly folded clothes deeply intrigued the Turk, who never thought that Yazoo was something more than a mere animal lead by its instincts. On the other hand, he respected him as a fighter and warrior, for he'd really enjoyed their battle, even though he'd found himself annoyed most of that time.

His palms itched; he wanted to complete what Yazoo hadn't-to place the boots somewhere, neatly, but when he reached his hand to do so, he heard the bathroom door open. Yazoo exited, fully dressed in something similar to what he had previously worn, put his coat on again, and sat beside Reno to pot his boots on, too. That was the reason why he'd left them so recklessly on the floor, Reno realized, for he was to wear them pretty soon. Now one piece of jigsaw was where it should be. Reno could at least confirm one of the things he definitely knew about Yazoo, who emitted such a rich fragrance now; he could confirm in his mental register that Yazoo was extremely meticulous person. That was the information the redhead collected about Yazoo's domestic hygiene, but he wasn't sure why it was so important. The very thought of Yazoo behaving this civilized was making his head dizzy. It felt odd.

Yazoo stood up, finally looking at the redhead. He had to admit that he feared a bit that the Turk would be gone, but that was something that he'd discarded quickly. Reno had no other choice than to wait, since he had obviously been utterly perplexed when seeing _him_ again, the remnant who refused to die. Reno didn't have any reason to call for the backup, either, or run to his bald friend, for he was willingly turning himself in to ShinRa. Yet he felt relieved when he saw Reno was waiting patiently for his return. Meeting with Rufus was of extreme importance for the next stage of his plan, and he didn't want to miss this opportunity.

"I called Tseng, and they're waiting for us, yo." Reno silently said, getting up. "You ready?" Yazoo didn't reply, he just headed to the door, waiting for Reno to exit first. The redhead followed, throwing a glance at the kitchenette. 'Too meticulous for my taste…' he clicked his tongue as the thought briefly entertained his mind, and he mentally reduced a point in the column entitled 'Yazoo is a Human'. It didn't seem that he was malnourished, but the kitchenette seemed intact. Deep down, Reno regretted for not using the opportunity, while Yazoo had been in the bathroom, to open the fridge and see what was inside.

The fresh air hit their faces, and soon after followed that odor of damp, crawling under their skins. Reno shuddered. They descended the stairs in greatest silence, and got onto the bike that had been faithfully waiting for them. It roared into the dawn of still sleeping Midgar, as they departed. The feeling of dread was slowly leaving Reno's body, and even though he was still feeling uneasy, he couldn't deny that Yazoo was a skilled driver.

* * *

After brief instructions from Reno's side, they'd arrived safely. Tseng was waiting for them outside, unfazed that he saw the remnant again, the one that, together with the other two, had tortured him seven months prior. He escorted them to the interrogating room; one dimly lit room with a large desk and Rufus on the other side. The blond seemed unfazed, as well, but he was wide-awake, ready to listen to everything that the silver-haired youth had to say. They offered him a seat, while Reno remained to stand; Tseng took his place next to Rufus, who was seated comfortably in a chair on the opposite side of them.

It was just as Yazoo expected; dark room, grim faces, and confused Reno. He even saw Rude standing in the darkest corner of the room, listening silently to what he had to say, and was ready to protect his superiors. The young man had been waiting for this long enough, and knew very well what he should say, and what he would accomplish with it. Even though he had to admit that Rufus could be very unpredictable, he was prepared for every situation that might occur. He didn't know much about body language, or how ordinary people behaved; he knew almost nothing about etiquette, yet he was willing to learn.

First Tseng started interrogating Reno, and he waited patiently for his turn. He knew that this all would go into official records, and was curious as to what the redhead would say.

"Explain in detail how you met this man, and what happened afterwards." Said Tseng coldly.

"I met this fellow at the bar in Midgar, shortly after Rude and I finished our job." Reno said without hesitation, with pure professionalism. He was standing there, his back straight, not even a trace of laid-back attitude from before. "He was drinking his alcoholic drink when I noticed him. I was shocked that he was still alive, and, of course, approached him. When I asked him to explain this phenomenon, for I knew that Cloud had eliminated him, he said that he needed to talk to President Rufus Shinra, and not me.

"I did not know whether I should contact you or not, but he was once our target, so I thought that he should meet with you, indeed. We went to his apartment, where he took his shower, and headed to the headquarters immediately afterwards." He finished his report coldly. It didn't take him much effort, and his face showed nothing. At that moment, he felt glad that he'd lied Tseng over the phone, and that he lied now, for if he said about the race, it would ruin Yazoo's image. Given the fact that the guy hadn't hurt anyone during it, and the fact that his neat apartment revealed that he was somehow civilized, Reno considered this move smart. Not that he cared much about the man's well-being, but it only seemed fair. He felt that there was a story behind it all, and that it should be further investigated.

"You have anything to add?" Asked Tseng.

"No, sir." Reno replied.

Truth be told, Yazoo was a bit surprised by what he'd heard from Reno, and that left him somewhat in wonder. Why would he do such a ting? Still, his face remained blank, as he waited to be interrogated.

A good-looking blond woman on Rufus' left side, who Yazoo recognized as Elena, the girl Kadaj, Loz, and he also held captive, was typing on her laptop with amazing speed, everything that had been spoken in the room. He also noticed that there was a video camera in the corner, recording everything as well. Tseng turned toward Rude.

"Could you confirm his story, Rude?" he asked, and Elena was waiting to type it down. The silver haired man felt that Reno was still calm. Rude cleared his throat.

"Yes, sir." He finally replied. "They talked over their drinks, and then I went home."

"That's enough." Rufus finally spoke, looking in Yazoo's direction, as cold as Yazoo himself was. "Now let us hear your story." Yazoo had to notice, for a second, that Rufus never addressed neither Reno nor Rude, but only him. They knew their positions very well, and were very professional. Yet somehow, it didn't feel right; it was as if he didn't respect neither of the Turks ranked below Tseng and Elena…

He started, with his melodious voice, to pour information in the ears of ones that listened. "Seven months ago, I somehow fell out of the Lifestream, as a completely alive individual." He said.

"What about your brothers?" was Rufus' immediate question.

"I don't know anything about them. I was completely alone." Replied Yazoo with firmness in his voice, as if it were actually true. Yet his face, for a second, seemed somehow sorrowful. "I don't know what happened to my brothers."

"That's strange…" Rufus said.

"I believe that it was only me who met this fate." Yazoo said, and then continued. "I didn't know what to do with myself, given the fact that Mother was gone, too…So I went to the place in Midgar, nearest to Edge, where I found a job as a butcher, and rented an apartment just above that butchery. My employer is my landlord, as well."

"Is this true?" he asked Tseng, who forwarded question to Reno.

"Yes, it is, sir. I was inside, and his apartment is decent enough. It is a redecorated attic of that butchery. But he didn't mention the job. I suppose he wanted to tell that to you directly." The redhead replied honestly.

"Proceed." Said Rufus coldly.

Yazoo did so. "But I don't know if I bear any of Sephiroth's cells. I don't know anything about my body. Am I back as a normal human? Am I still like…_that_? I'm asking of you to use your technology to determine which it is, and if I'm found normal, I want to be granted a citizenship." He clearly declared his wish, something that Kadaj had been a passionate opponent to, something that might fail, but the remnant voiced it anyway.

'So that's what it is.' Reno thought. 'He wants to live here.' He had to admit that he didn't expect this. He expected that Yazoo wanted some kind of alliance with Rufus, something military-wise, perhaps, or a dose of Mako, or something like that…

"Hm…" Rufus was in deep thought for a few minutes, and Yazoo waited patiently, like a dog; his face neutral, as always, so cold and pale, and tender, and beautiful it was, that it was almost painful. He was…almost artificial, yet Reno felt his heartbeats and breathing under his palms, and warmth…He seemed that he only lacked soul, but his wish to live like the ones who possessed souls lived…was a great puzzle to the young assassin.

"Your request is granted. You'll be examined as of now." Rufus declared finally. "And if your tests prove negative to any inhuman cells, you will be under probation for three years, and a guardian will be appointed to you." He said that coldly, in one breath, and then he whispered something to Tseng, who stood up. Yazoo stood up as well, not entirely believing that his wish had been granted. He saw Tseng say something to Reno, and then the redhead told him to stand up and follow the two of them.

* * *

Looking at him through the glass, the young Turk could only admire the remnant, who was sitting there on the bed, in something that resembled those hospital robes, waiting for the technician to pierce him with various threatening needles, and take many blood samples. He felt the contents of his stomach swirl at the sight. Yet Yazoo showed no fear whatsoever. Something didn't match, and it irked the assassin. He was trying to figure out what it was that made Yazoo make such a decision, since he seemed completely deprived of all emotion. The eternally bloodthirsty adrenaline addict he once knew apparently led a peaceful life and wanted to live it for a long, long time. Since he hadn't been in possession of any weapon; therefore never used them while riding, Reno couldn't say that Yazoo was life threatening. So which one was he?

He turned his head toward Tseng, who was standing next to him, quietly observing, as well, the crimson fluid leaving Yazoo's body.

"Boss, since I found him and all, can I be in charge of him?" he had only scratched the surface, and wanted to know as much as possible about this enigmatic man.

"As the matter of fact," said Tseng. "These are the orders from the President." He continued, and then quoted. "To be with him as much as possible, visit him at work, home, or wherever he goes. You will send monthly reports, as well. In this envelope," he took it out from his suit jacket, and handed it over to Reno. "is the document that confirms what I just said." A slight smile danced on the redhead's lips.

"Thank you, sir." he said quietly, and then turned to observe Yazoo, who was now taken to the CT scanner. Reno had been told that they would need his body fluids; later, they would check his EKG and EEG, and that would be all. He wondered how Yazoo would go through all that; if he would be fine, or traumatized and confused. But as far as he knew, Yazoo never showed how he felt, unless when he was riding his motorbike.

* * *

The remnant, on his part, had handled everything without a word spoken, without a frown, and now was sitting beside his _guardian_ for the results. He expected such an outcome anyway, since it was Reno who had found him, but he knew that it was a low price for the things he wanted to accomplish.

For many hours, they waited, with anxiousness from both sides. To Yazoo, it meant everything. He wanted to know if he could really live normally and devote himself to that. Not only was his wish to be like others that made him anxious, but (even though he would never admit it to himself) to show Kadaj that he was wrong. To Reno, it was just the beginning of adventure.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and Yazoo took it out of his pocket, and looked at the number. His phonebook was empty, and he always deleted calls from the call register, for he knew that the technicians would look for any sign that his brothers were alive. It was Loz who was calling; he knew that number by heart.

Reno looked at him curiously, wondering who it could be; he never regarded Yazoo as a social…person. "Your boss, huh?" Yazoo shot him a glare that said it's-none-of-your-business, and went to the corner of the waiting room, to answer. "A girlfriend, then?" Reno mused, but dropped the idea immediately.

Yazoo heard what the redhead muttered, and snorted. He never thought of having one. Besides, it wasn't the right time for such things, and he knew that when it finally came, everything would go in exact order. He wasn't ready now to have a partner. He answered the phone, telling something incoherent to his brother, hung up, and deleted the call.

The results came that afternoon, and were negative. He was a complete human being. He was clean. Something inside him sighed in relief, as he received the news. But it wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. Something painful seized his chest, but he decided to ignore it.

Reno had told him that he would visit him at work the following day, for he was now 'dead tired and dirty, yo!'. He smirked at the recollection, sprawled out on his bed. It had been a long day and all he wanted was to sleep. His arms still ached from the needles, but it was fine. For now, everything was working as planned.

* * *

**TBC…?**


	4. His Reasons

**AN:** Wow…it's already been a month since I last updated…Time surely flies, huh… Well, people, sorry for the delay! Please enjoy yourselves and make sure to review! On with the story!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 4: His Reasons**

Yazoo rested his elbows on the counter, supporting his head with his hands. The last customer for the day had just exited. He looked after the old lady, disinterested, and sighed. He felt pleasantly tired and a bit sleepy; he observed, with his eyes half-open, the streets overwhelmed by dusk. The entire area seemed as if it were dozing off, together with its citizens. The orange and red gave the ruined city such a stunning, mysterious beauty.

He was looking outside, dreamily; his chest felt surprisingly light. Was it the feeling of fulfillment and internal peace? He wondered, swallowed by the silence. It was already seven o'clock. He didn't have to turn on the lights, since it was still visible enough. When he thought about everything, he pondered if this was the time when you could say that everything was alright with the world. Somehow, it felt awkward. It felt boring.

When he was about to take his bloody apron off and wash his hands from blood, the door of the shop opened and somebody entered. He turned around, about to say that the shop was closed, but the opportunity to open his mouth never came.

"I guess I came too late to see you working, yo." The redhead said, approaching the counter. Yazoo straightened up, regaining his calm composure; all the signs of sleepiness wiped away from his flawless face. He didn't know what exactly Reno wanted to accomplish with this; he was positive that the redhead had planned to be his supervisor all along, ever since the interrogation. He would be lying if he said he felt comfortable around Reno. The man carried the air of danger with him, and the experienced fighter such as Yazoo could feel it. Yet, he didn't want to spoil the show and deprive the curious cat of its satisfaction.

"I need to cut some meat for tomorrow, so you can watch if you want." He suggested. Even though he could just wake up early in the morning (really, really early) and do the job, this felt like a better idea. He wanted to see if Reno could stand so much blood. Actually, he knew that Reno had probably seen many terrible things and done them as well, but still he liked to entertain the hope that he could toy with his little tagalong. If he had to put up with him for three whole years, then this was fair enough, wasn't it?

Actually, when he'd said that he had some 'meat to cut', he meant he was in the mood for some slaughter. There was this sow in the pigpen in the backyard that his landlord had told him to slaughter due the following day. So perhaps Reno's arrival was a good thing after all; he would've completely forgotten to do it if it hadn't been for the redhead. He showed the redhead to come behind the counter and follow him to the backyard.

* * *

And there they were again, Reno mused. It was the same old yard from couple of nights ago, but looked dirtier during the daytime. Not that it was actually the day anymore, but it was surely lighter than darkness of summer evenings ;not that you could tell one season from another anymore; they long stopped changing and all that was left of them were stunning sunsets and gray, rainy days (most of the time). The terrible stench spread throughout the air of this small refuge of Yazoo's, and he secretly wondered how the remnant could put up with such a stupid job of a butcher. Reno felt all bitter, frowning when he realized his thoughts started to be way too depressive.

When they entered the pigpen, there was nothing to be seen, really. The sow was killed mercilessly in a matter of seconds, and then Yazoo dragged the enormous creature to the yard. He did everything in silence, not even bothering to ask Reno if he could help him carry it out. He behaved as if Reno never existed, just like he'd behaved that night, the assassin noticed. Somehow, it didn't feel right. He felt so useless, just standing there and watching Yazoo do all the toil himself. He wanted to ask if the silver haired youth had to do this every day alone, but refrained. There was something inside Yazoo that he couldn't understand no matter how hard he tried, so he just stood there and closely observed.

Somehow, it didn't feel as pleasant as Yazoo expected, to be watched. He hadn't even seen a hint of dread on the redhead's face. Still, it didn't stop him to draw all the satisfaction he could from the bloody sight, as he cut sinews and took the guts out, soaking his forearms in the process with warm, beautiful crimson fluid; spurts of blood marred his pale face, making such a striking contrast. Reno could just watch agape, how calm yet fierce this strange…_person_ looked while doing that horrible work. He still had problems with referring to this man as a person.

Yazoo straightened up, looking at his handiwork. Sometimes it felt nice being a butcher. You could vent all your energy on poor animals, and no one could blame you for it, for people would eat their meat and be healthy and whatever. He would feed many hungry mouths by doing this; that was something that made his heart feel cozy. No harm was made, yet he had lots of fun, and seeing how Reno was powerless to write anything bad about him in his monthly reports made it even sweeter. He was just doing his job and nobody could blame him for it.

"Blood really suits you, doesn't it, yo?" Reno said, examining his blood-covered host. It was trickling down Yazoo's forearms, making a puddle around his boots.

"Hn." Was all the youth said, and shifted his mako eyes from Reno to something that was behind him. "Bring me the tub of hot water." His words weren't addressed to the redhead, so he turned to look at the person behind him. His eyes rested on the chubby girl in flamboyant garments.

"I see you were a good boy, Yazoo." She purred with her whiny voice. "Daddy will be pleased when he comes back and sees that all the work was done." With that said, she eyed Yazoo's guest up, and disappeared into the shop.

"Yo, who was that chick?" Reno asked, already suspicious of her morals. The way she'd swung her hips several seconds ago, her speech pattern, her clothes…

"My landlord's daughter." Replied Yazoo, laconically, hoping that his former nemesis wouldn't ask any other questions. He preferred it quiet; the redhead was most of the time annoying.

* * *

He was on his way to Yazoo's place, thinking about the day before; the way Yazoo seemed pretty engrossed in the things he was doing; how devotedly he had taken care of the sow's carcass, and bathed it in hot water. Then he'd placed its guts in several containers, explaining they would sell them to some factory that would make other products from them; in the end, he cut its finest parts so perfectly, and placed it into the freezer. The butcher's daughter had been nowhere to be seen, which somehow felt relieving for him.

Somehow, it seemed that he'd spoiled Yazoo's fun with meat; when he'd asked Yazoo if he could drink some coffee or tea upstairs, at his place, the silver haired man had replied with his usual 'hn', and ignored him, which Reno, naturally, had taken as a 'no', and gone home.

He could understand Yazoo's hostility to some extent; he realized that to Yazoo, he had just been means to find Rufus and make it an official meeting and nothing more. He knew he was unwanted, but there was no helping it now. Reno was aware of his selfishness, and was doing all of this, for the first time, not to protect ShinRa's interests, but satisfy his curiosity.

When he reached Yazoo's place, he saw him mounting the bike. Without second thought, he hopped behind him, covering his eyes with goggles as he did so, and wrapped his arms around the silver haired man. At this, Yazoo started to writhe, trying to get rid of Reno's grip, but the redhead appeared to have won this round. He overpowered him.

"You can't go with me." He said coldly.

'Why, you're going on a date or something?" Reno asked, and feeling Yazoo's cold stare on him, he knew that the youth didn't have a lover. "Your eyes are telling me you're not going on a date, so I'm going with you, yo!"

* * *

Experienced as he was, Yazoo quickly came up with the plan how to get rid of his unwanted guest. He was going to the place Reno shouldn't see, and he couldn't afford to take him there. It would spoil everything. So he slowed down, knowing that, even though Reno was among few people he deemed smart, he couldn't find anything bad in him doing so. Naturally, Reno loosened the grip on him, and that was just what the silver haired youth was waiting for all along. He shifted all the weight to his left leg and lifted his right one, half-turned toward Reno. The heavy boot met with the redhead's chest, and he was harshly thrown from the bike. He was rolling down the road for several moments, feeling his shoulder crack. From his tear-veiled eyes, he saw Yazoo speeding off into the depths of the Forgotten City.

At that moment, Yazoo didn't think of consequences. Reno could write whatever he wanted in his report about this, for all he cared. The only thing he had in mind was Kadaj and no one else. His insane brother should be informed of his successful meeting with Rufus. Deep down, however, Yazoo knew that Kadaj would never agree with him. He would still think he was doing wrong.

The bike was roaring as he passed through the woods, enjoying the turquoise light the sun cast from above, coloring the trees and the ground. But he was unaffected by this magic sight; seeing Kadaj standing in the distance, waiting for him.

His younger brother looked enraged and disappointed, as he watched Yazoo dismount the bike. "Long time no see, Yazoo." He said morosely, in his usual, hissing voice. "What brings you here? You finally realized that you don't belong there, didn't you?" He always spoke his sentences theatrically, Yazoo noticed. It had been the entire month since they last saw each other. "I was pleasantly surprised when you phoned."

"Quite the contrary." He said, leaning against his bike; the two slim figures standing before one another seemed almost identical. Anyone would presume they were brothers, but Yazoo didn't feel that way anymore. In the best case, he was an outcast, in the worst, they didn't share the same blood.

"Oh, is that so?" Kadaj said, placing his hands behind his back, one of his hands gripping the wrist of another. He approached Yazoo, looking him straight into eyes. "Then what is it?"

Unfazed by his brother's hostility, Yazoo coolly replied that he went to see Rufus Shinra, and that he would be granted citizenship in three years. He deliberately skipped the part with Reno being his supervisor. He knew what Kadaj would say to that. He wanted to defeat him somehow, and prove that he was wrong. However, he himself knew that everything had gone way too smoothly to be actually true.

"It surprises me how you, of all people, can believe in such a lie!" Kadaj nervously laughed. "What surprises me more is how you are willing to wait for the entire three years for something that will _never_ be granted to you!" he ran his hand over Yazoo's cheek. "Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo…" He purred. "It appears that you can be smart only when fighting and doing something suicidal…Without Loz to assist you, you are nothing. You are _no one_."

At that, Yazoo decided to react. No matter how unreal it seemed, he shoved his brother's arm, piercing him with his infuriated mako eyes. "I won't have you talk to me like that, Kadaj!" He said, opening his mouth to say something more, but saw Loz standing several feet away from them. The eldest was staring at him in disbelief, tears trickling from his eyes. Yazoo shook his head, standing from his bike and made a gesture with his hand for Kadaj to move.

The youngest did so, a bit bewildered because of Yazoo's sudden disobedience. "Loz, are you crying?" Yazoo asked, approaching the large, infantile man. This time, he didn't say it teasingly, but somehow with worry and care. The green eyes, hidden between the trees, were mesmerized by the sight, and their owner gaped in disbelief.

Loz didn't hide his tears. He sobbed and pulled his brother in a tight embrace. "I can't stand the sight of you guys fighting." Confused by his brother's cuddliness, Yazoo hesitantly patted the man's back. "Now that you're finally with us..."

"Haha, what a nice reunion." Kadaj threw his head back, turning around to face his brothers. " But let me tell you something, Loz. He's not your brother. He's not mine, either. If he claims he's human, then we share no bonds. If he has no Sephiroth's cells, then he's not even the black sheep in our little family."

"Neither are you two, for that matter. We're all human beings now." Yazoo managed to say, his mouth pressed strongly against Loz's shoulder. "There is this possibility we're just strangers to one another."

"Don't say such things, Yazoo!" Loz sobbed, hugging him even tighter. "Remember how we always stuck together." Yazoo couldn't take Loz's pressure on him anymore. He was out of oxygen, so he gently placed his hands on Loz's forearms, removing his arms from him.

"Just stop crying for once." He said, and then turned to Kadaj. "And what are you planning to do now, Kadaj?" He asked, but he already knew. Kadaj was probably going from one town to another, forming some kind of a sect. "Do people listen to you?"

"You bet they do." Kadaj replied, swinging his hips as he approached the twosome. 'We are all going to take revenge on this planet for making fools of us! We must tell about our experience with the Lifestream and claim it as our natural right!" He said dramatically. Yazoo couldn't understand what his brother wanted to say, so he didn't bother listening to him. It felt very tiring and confusing. He didn't know why he'd come to visit them, when he knew what awaited him.

"I think it is safe for you to call me, if you want, Loz." He said to the man next to him. "Does Kadaj forbid you to call me?" Loz waved his head.

"No." He said, in his deep, calm voice now. "Even if we're not brothers, we're at least friends, right, Yazoo?" The one with the longest hair nodded.

'Yeah." He said, watching Kadaj make his circles while talking about his strange philosophy. Then, suddenly, his eyes fixed on something, then he tilted his head to the side. Yazoo followed him with his eyes, seeing how he dragged Reno from behind the trees.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, huh? Shachou's dog…Is he your babysitter now?" He threw a glance in Yazoo's direction, with all disdain he could manage, shoving the redhead, who fell into the dust.

"He's my supervisor."

"So Shinra doesn't trust you. My point is proven, then. Now I have to kill him."

"He won't tell anything." Yazoo rushed and stood between Kadaj's Soba and Reno, who was silently watching everything. He was too much in shock to say anything.

"Oh?"Kadaj lifted one of his delicate eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"I have my methods of persuasion." He looked down at Reno, looking intimidating. Reno flinched a bit. "We're leaving now." He motioned him to follow him.

"And don't come back here anymore. I don't want to cross paths with you, you traitor!" Kadaj screamed at him, turning his back on them demonstratively.

"Hn." Yazoo said, and with Reno in tow, left the Forgotten Forest.

* * *

Despite his cold exterior, Reno was certain that Yazoo was in pain. Beneath the palm of his good arm, he could feel his nervous heart, pounding so loudly. In his ears, he could only hear its sobs, over the roar of the engine. Being disowned, having no one to support you in your great efforts to be normal, to fit the standards of one society, it must have felt horrible. Yazoo was riding slowly, since Reno couldn't hold onto him with both his arms. Reno could tell that he was desperately trying to breathe normally. The assassin updated his mental note-Yazoo's efforts were real; he possessed some kind of emotions; despite this slap on the cheek, he persisted. So far, he did. For the first time Reno considered the possibility to admire the silver haired man. But he put it in the column he named 'maybe'.

* * *

"I won't tell anyone, don't worry." He said, when Yazoo stopped the bike. He'd ordered him to stop two streets from the hospital. He reasoned, if he hadn't told Tseng about the race, and didn't intend to tell anyone about the three brothers, then it was only natural that he wouldn't go to the hospital with Yazoo. There would be witnesses and all, he mused. "I can barely handle you. I can't handle your two copies." He offered him a smile.

"Why are you doing this?" Yazoo asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Because if there is the slightest chance you're normal, then I'll gladly help you." Reno replied with all honesty. "I'll even forgive you this dislocated shoulder. It could've been worse." He didn't expect any apologies, and he didn't get any. Yazoo didn't say anything in reply; he just turned his head and started the engine, disappearing in the direction of Midgar.

Yazoo, surely, wasn't the one who went for good communication, Reno realized. But somehow, despite all the pain his nervous system was informing him of, he was optimistic about his new companion. He knew he couldn't change him drastically; he could just shape his points of view, perhaps.

* * *

TBC…?

**AN:** I know this is a bit rushed and whatnot. But I hope it was enjoyable. And it will be more from Yazoo's POV. I revised this once, so I hope there aren't any mistakes. If there are, I apologize.


	5. His Contemplations

**AN:** First of all, sorry for the long delay! ^^' I had problems with my Internet connection, and then my modem broke, and so on, and so forth. I apologize!

I really enjoyed writing the scene with Kadaj in the last chapter. I think I can portray him very well; I find it easy since he really acts exaggeratedly all the time. I just love him; he's much easier to write about, since we know more about him than we know about Yazoo. The point is, if I ever find time to write about him (and, probably, Cloud, I will gladly do that!).

I'm not saying that it's boring writing about Yazoo! Far from that! It's quite a challenge, actually! For all Yazoo lovers (and Yazoo/Reno lovers), here's the next installment! Even though I received not so many reviews for the last chapter, I'm writing this for the sake of the ones who still read this, and for my own enjoyment. Enough about all of this, let's go on with the story!

**Warning:** You wanted Yazoo's POV, you have it. This chapter doesn't have much things going on in it, just their contemplation, as the title said. It is written in my strange mix of formal and informal language (sorry!), but nevertheless, I hope it will be enjoyable!

As always, I hope you'll enjoy it, and please post a review afterwards. :)

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 5: His Contemplations **

Wrapped in his bathrobe, he fell on the bed, his wet hair scattered all over the white pillow. The day was behind him, and he wondered, while he was staring at the ceiling, as was his habit (later, he realized that most people tended to develop it while thinking about life important issues, while in their beds), if he had gained some benefit or answer from all of it. First to his thoughts, naturally, came Kadaj. Yazoo's still unaccustomed brain tried to make a new category for him. He had to attach another noun to his name, to mark him, not as his brother anymore, but something else.

This always comes naturally to other people, but Yazoo never had the actual chance to interact with people in that way, to develop relationships, let alone think about them. Now when he had plenty of time, he could see the clearer image of how he and his…comrades interacted, he came to realize that there was not a trace of brotherly love. They'd acted more like colleagues whose job was to find Mother…no, to find _Jenova_, their employer being Sephiroth.

Yazoo couldn't bring himself to think of Sephiroth in any other way than his employer; after all, he had never been able to feel his presence like Kadaj had, thus he' d never been close to him in a spiritual way, neither had he transformed into him. In short, he had no actual bonds with him. When he thought better, he had never had any kind of actual feelings of attachment to Jenova, either. Kadaj would express his love by crying, by frantically looking for her; Loz would always just cry, and he…He only worked in Sephiroth's interest…Even though he had known so little about him at that point.

When Reno had insulted her, he felt obliged to protect her, not out of his unconditional love for her, but because it was his job. If you look at it that way, it meant that out of the three remnants, Yazoo was the one who possessed most of Sephiroth's heartlessness. He was unable to feel anything. Yet again, now, disowned as he was, he felt somewhat empty and abandoned. Without his brothers who had always been by his side, whatever their relationship was, it felt so catastrophically depressing, and that aura of abandonment never ceased to haunt him.

In his thoughts, he decided to stop wondering why his chest ached a little. He was starting to feel that he wouldn't be able to follow the path of humans…it felt rather complicated. He still hadn't come up with conclusion under which category to put his (former) brothers. Hoping that his experience of peeking into other's lives, while he was in the Lifestream, would help, he started digging deeper into his memories.

* * *

Meanwhile, even though his shoulder hurt 'like a bitch', Reno wasn't idle. He'd been to the archive of ShinRa corporation, charmed the receptionist and the keeper of the documents a bit, telling the tragic story of his shoulder, of how he'd chased a very dangerous criminal and so on and so forth. Feeling a bit heroic couldn't hurt, but it was really unnecessary for him to go through all the trouble of narrating his adventures, since, as the employee of the corporation, he was permitted the access to all its facilities.

Despite Gaia being advanced in technology, the archive was quite old-fashioned. It was one vast, dark room, with concrete walls, black with mould. Many high bookcases, full of boxes with documents, one desk, and one chair were its only inventory. You would think, at first, that it was messy, disorganized, and that no one could find what one was looking for, especially if the documents they wanted to see were on the highest shelves. There were no ladders, which didn't help the matter, either. For such a powerful corporation as was Rufus', which held so many secrets, this was outrageous. We are only left to presume that the documents archived there were not of any big importance.

Despite all that mess, Reno scanned the rows of documents, walking slowly down the aisle; perception had always been his strong point. Soon, he found the documents he wanted, swiftly pulled them out with his good hand, with a triumphant smirk on his face. In spite of him being an acute observer, he was also gifted with luck. We know this for we know how he'd survived the crash of his helicopter, among other things.

He quickly walked to the desk, this action taking him two to three minutes, since the aisles were very long. With one careless motion, he threw the transparent folder on the desk, straddled the chair, and started reading.

* * *

The second thing that came to Yazoo's mind when thinking about Kadaj was Soba. How come he'd had his sword with him in Forgotten Forest? During their time wandering aimlessly and ceaselessly thinking about reasons why they'd been spitted out of the Lifestream, Yazoo was certain Kadaj didn't possess his weapon. He'd probably had it forged, Yazoo mused. The man who'd made it must have been very skillful, 'a damn good at his job', Yazoo thought further. Such train of thought brought him to his own weapon, the Velvet Nightmare. Such a beautiful gun blade, indeed a nightmare to his enemies! What had happened to it? Probably it'd dissolved, Yazoo mused, when Loz and he had. 'Such a pity', he thought bitterly.

Yazoo rolled on his left side, propping himself up on one elbow, imagining himself in fight…He'd been a remarkable marksman, he knew it, and he probably still was, but now, when he was on probation, he knew he must not have any kind of weapon, let alone a gun… He deemed other guns worthless, since none of them could match his Velvet. Quickly, he stood up, ridding of such useless thoughts. He ceased contemplating his relationship with Kadaj and Loz, as well, since none of the threesome fitted any social pattern.

Yazoo had seen many people fighting and reconciling, and he knew that relationships with relatives were in fifty percent of cases reparable, but he didn't see it in the cards for the three of them. Them being humans now was irrelevant, since their habits and ideas of social interaction greatly differed from ones that other humans possessed. It came natural for said people, but never for the threesome. Such statistic wasn't encouraging, not in the least, but it wasn't in his nature to ponder much on it. At least, it wasn't yet. He still needed to develop, and he had a firm resolve to do so.

Now not thinking at all, he got dressed, picked up his wet towels and bathrobe, and went to the bathroom to dry his hair.

* * *

Reno was sitting in the archive, surrounded by silence, illuminated by the light of a dusty lamp that was on the old, almost rotten wooden desk. He appeared deep in thought, carefully examining each paper set before him. Aside for the main reason why he was there, he had several other, personal reasons.

First of all, he thought that some reference was good for the beginning of his task. He was in the archive now, to see the documents on recent events once again, all the reports, starting from general information about the enemy, the situation, losses, to ammunition spent (which was, most probably, irrelevant, but he still wanted to check on it, just in case), the wounded soldiers, citizens, reports given by Rufus, Elena, Tseng and the rest, and his own report, as well.

He'd been in there for about three hours, carefully examining it all, especially the general information on the brothers and Sephiroth. He noticed that the brothers differed, and made a scale in his notebook, to illustrate what he was reading. Many people mistook him for a reckless punk, but he was, in fact, very thorough and devoted to his work. His rank was the evidence. To return to the scale: he called it The Scale of Intensity, and it looked like this:

_**Sephiroth**_: The looks

Loz - - - - - - - - -Yazoo- - - - - - - - - Kadaj

If the person was in the middle, then he resembled him (Sephiroth) most, the left the least, the right, a bit closer.

He'd done these scales for the rest of his (Sephiroth's) attributes and ascribed it to the remnants. It confirmed what he already knew-Yazoo was emotionless, ruthless, cold (this didn't mean Kadaj and Loz weren't; it meant that Yazoo had such characteristics more than the two of them). This meant that some traits were in common for them, but with different intensities, whereas some traits didn't exist in one of them, or either of them. For instance, Neither Kadaj nor Loz possessed Yazoo's aloofness, nor Yazoo possessed emotions, like they did, and so on.

This analysis told him a lot about Yazoo. He would be the one hard to handle, that was for certain. The silver-haired youth, with such elements of personality would have problems in communications more than his 'brothers' would, if they decided to live legally. Also, Yazoo was used to do everything in pair with Loz, so he, despite him being all ascetic, would not be able to live all by himself for a longer period of time. Enter Reno, who could befriend him and learn to control him (although Yazoo was good at controlling his inhuman side quite well (but for how long would he be able to do so?), some help couldn't harm).

The redhead smirked, determined to help the young man. He knew it was a difficult task to accomplish, but he was willing to try. He'd witnessed the race, where Yazoo participated with no weapons, and only relied on his skills for a bit of excitement, vent, and nothing more. It was harmless fun, on his part. This alone, and his interview with Rufus were enough for Reno to make such an important decision. After all, he loved to do his job thoroughly.

He placed the documents back in the shelf, slowly this time, for his shoulder tinged, in those painfully tight bandages. His next destination was Yazoo's apartment. It was Friday evening, and he wanted to take him out for a drink or two.

* * *

Since he always lived plainly, he never actually developed any taste in food. Anything that would fill his stomach could do, as far as he was concerned. So when he opened the fridge, he fished out some salami, God knew how old (for such a meticulous person, this was unheard of), took some bread and sat at his tiny table to eat it, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. He was just about to take one morsel into his mouth, when he heard the knock on his door. He placed the sandwich, if you could call it so, on the plate, and stood up to open it.

As soon as he did so, he mentally frowned. It was Reno, leaned against the doorframe as if the two of them were good old childhood friends, which was not and never would be the case, obviously. However, when he saw how he held his arm and how strongly it was banded, he felt a slight swirl in his stomach. Wordlessly, he stepped aside and let his guest in.

"I wanted to see you, yo!" he said and looked around as if he'd been there for the first time, and walked around without Yazoo's permission. Nonchalantly, without any reaction to such behavior, Yazoo slid in his chair, took the 'sandwich' in his hands, and was about to take the first bite, when Reno took it out from him.

"Whoa! What is _that_, yo! It's all black and it stinks!" He threw Yazoo's food into the sink, not bothering to look for the wastebasket or something. Yazoo was just looking at him coldly, he himself indifferent to the thing that had just happened. He presumed that it was a bad and impolite thing to do, but that was just the definition of it. He couldn't feel the proper feelings for such an occasion. It was not that he was incapable of feeling it or reacting, but let us see the further developments of this story. It will tell us everything. For now, Yazoo simply didn't care.

Of course, he understood that the condition for him to live in this town, aside for him doing only legal things, was to be on a three-year probation and have Reno visit him every day, hence he hoped that the redhead would do his job and leave soon. However, the redhead had something completely different in store for him.

"You know, I didn't expect you to be so reckless when it comes to food. Hell, when it comes to _anything_, yo." He said, highly determined to lead his, so to say, protégé, in the right direction. "We're eating out!" It was both an order and decision. Yazoo tilted his head.

"And who says I'm coming? You want to risk another of your arms to be broken?" He asked, coldly. He hadn't the slightest intention to go.

"I won't have you talk to me in this tone!" Reno declared, a bit agitated " I will take you out, and you will eat three proper meals per day. Is that clear? Hell, if you break any of my bones, I won't hesitate to break some of yours, yo!" He hissed. "Now come." He turned his back to the silver-haired youth, and motioned with his head to follow him. His long ponytail moved a bit in the process, swung a little, and then stopped.

Yazoo was still sitting In his seat.

"Why don't you write everything in your report? My disobedience, the race, anything that can discriminate me?" He asked, his voice fluent like the most complex melody.

"Let's go, Yazoo." Reno said, ignoring his question. "I will explain everything if you come with me." That was just a lure, of course. He didn't have the slightest intention of telling anything to him. There was no need, and, truth be told, there was nothing he could actually say. He just liked to do his job thoroughly.

There was something in his voice that forced Yazoo to stand up and follow him. It was as if the redhead had chosen the special tone of voice which indicated that he wanted to communicate with him, to actually exchange words, to, to…The young man wasn't sure himself what it was. He could only explain it poorly, just as I did above. Perhaps it was just that his stomach was growling and he had nothing to eat at the moment, so he complied.

"Alright then." He said. "Lead the way."

* * *

**TBC…? It depends on you. **

**Errors will be corrected later.**


	6. Of Old Merits and Delicious Food

**AN:** Here I am, updating this, instead of studying…oh, well. I guess I love Reno/Yazoo more than studying stupid things such as pragmatics and so on. :)

I hope you'll enjoy it! With every chapter written, we're getting closer to yaoi, of course, but don't expect smut so early in the story. In two, or three chapters, maybe…but not yet.

**P.S.** Majority of you commented on Yazoo's bad salami...It was so cute! ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 6: Of Old Merits and Delicious Food**

They stepped into the darkness; the evening was colder than Reno had thought it would be. For a brief moment, he envied Yazoo his leather garments, which kept him warm. He had frowned and shivered a bit before he pointed to the Jeep parked in front of the shop. Wordlessly, Yazoo followed him.

"You should taste some real food, yo! Even Jenova's bastards deserve some decent meal," said Reno, but his intentions weren't to insult his companion. He simply said what he meant; he was in a foul mood, having to drive only with his good hand, while his shoulder hurt even more than this morning.

"Hn…" Yazoo said, debating in his mind whether he should punch Reno, castrate him, or stay calm. It was in his interest, however, to have a safe trip, so he stayed calm.

"Quite the contrary; I do know who my father is, but…Do you know who is yours?" this was low as he intended it to be. Now they were even. As for the question of his origins, they could discuss it for eternity, whether he was Jenova's or Sephiroth's child, or neither. In a way, it would be sick to claim that they both were his parents, since it would imply incest. Once, he'd possessed her cells, but he was a part of Sephiroth, too. Since he wasn't born in a natural way, or born at all for that matter, perhaps he was just an anomaly, a unique phenomenon. Somehow, he didn't like contemplating this; he felt more of an outcast from humankind if you put it this way. Being an outcast was not his objective, as we all know.

"You have some nerve, telling me that, yo!" Reno hissed, but continued to drive. "Anyhow…" he'd managed to collect himself quickly, reminding himself of his task; he knew Yazoo required much patience and that he shouldn't be insulted by his remarks; this relationship was strictly professional. Even his intentions of befriending Yazoo came into that category. "I'm taking you to Tifa's. She's a great cook, by the way." He declared, but noticed that Yazoo winced. "What is it, yo?" he asked, although he could presume what was wrong.

"If I am correct, that is where Nii-san lives." He said, referring to Cloud. "I am certain he is not keen on seeing me." He said calmly. He himself wasn't ready for such an encounter; he couldn't determine his opinion on Cloud. He deemed the data he'd collected during their fights invalid, since he couldn't apply them anymore. Cloud was, most probably, a completely different person than Yazoo thought he was. In addition, he didn't think he would enjoy his meal, surrounded by ones he'd either hijacked (Denzel), or hurt.

"You're right, but who knows?" Reno replied.

"Perhaps you could take us someplace else, if you still intend on feeding me, or whatever your objective is." Yazoo suggested, coldly. Any place would do; he'd gain experience of eating at a restaurant. By a restaurant, he didn't imagine anything fancy; any place could do, as long as it provided any kind of food. He wasn't aware of the fact, however, that Reno was broke.

Luckily for the redhead, his profession had taught him to think quickly and improvise. "How about my place, then? Rude is an excellent cook, too." He didn't propose this randomly; Rude was an easygoing fellow. He turned left and parked his vehicle on the side of the road, in order to phone him and inform him of the guest they would be having. Presently, they resumed their way to Reno's apartment.

"I hope you don't mind eating at my place. But I guess it's too late now for you to protest, yo."

* * *

They parked at the underground garage, and entered a standard gray elevator, with four-person capacity. All the while they didn't speak to each other. Reno was usually a talkative person, but Yazoo didn't mind if they never spoke to each other again. When they entered, he was surprised to see how the apartment looked neat, despite two men living in there. It didn't fit the stereotype Yazoo was remotely accustomed to, by observing from his safe place in the Lifestream.

The second thing that caught his eye was the enormity of the place. It appeared that Reno wouldn't give him a tour, but only by looking at the vast living room, he presumed that their respective bedrooms were vast as well. There was a huge glass-window straight ahead of them, in the living room. In the middle of the room was one sofa, and an LCD TV facing it; on either side were two armchairs, matching the color of the sofa-white. There was a glass coffee table; the furniture looked sophisticated, which meant Rufus was taking good care of his 'dogs'. The view wasn't anything to boast about. But Yazoo thought that perhaps watching sunset through that window could be stunning, with red and orange lights scattered all over the place.

He saw two doors-on his left, as they exited the vast hall, was one, and on the opposite side of the room-some good two meters behind the TV set-was another. He thought of them as bedrooms. Next to the window was a small dining table, where he presumed they would be eating.

Rude emerged from the kitchen, which was on Yazoo's right. He had his sunglasses on, a white apron wrapped around his muscular body, and a cloth with which he was drying his hands. He nodded his head, raising his eyebrows in the process.

"Dinner is about to be served." He said quietly and retreated to the kitchen. Reno nodded, and turned to look at Yazoo.

"We should wash our hands first." He said. "Follow me." He led them to the door, which was on the silver haired man's left side when he'd entered the apartment. The room they entered now was Reno's bedroom, Yazoo mused, throwing a glance at it; it had a bed that seemed to be comfortable and spacious enough for at least two people; on the right side was the small window and a simple desk, with a laptop on it. On his right was Reno, who waved him again, to follow him. They entered the redhead's bathroom. It had simple white tiles, white sink, and a shower-nothing too fancy, the young man noticed. He was becoming aware that Reno's taste lay in simplicity, and he decided that he liked it. It was a nice change of pace, for someone who did everything so theatrically. In Yazoo's view, Reno was just a brighter version of Kadaj, when it came to talking and drawing attention.

* * *

At the table, he was picking at his food, looking down at it disdainfully. On his right, Reno was eating and enjoying it to the fullest-you could see it on his face, the look of undeniable satisfaction. He, apparently, liked to eat a lot. Still, he was so skinny one would think he was ill. Rude was eating slowly, chewing on his food with such attention that it sickened their guest.

"You know, Yazoo, you remind me of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, yo. A good boy during the daytime and a bad boy at night." Said Reno with his mouth full of food, still chewing. Yazoo tilted his head and looked in his direction, not comprehending what the redhead wanted to say.

"He doesn't know the context, so he wouldn't know what you're talking about." Said Rude, and then looked in Yazoo's direction. "It's a novella, from Earth…."

"You see," Reno turned in his chair suddenly, toward Yazoo, making gestures with his good hand while explaining. "There is this guy, Jekyll, who is so good and everybody loves him, but he drinks this potion which makes him have split personality-the name's Hyde. So he reminds me of you, in a way. You work diligently all day, and go racing at night. All dangerous and mysterious auras around you…You so fit the image!" with one exception, however, he added in his mind, but never uttered it-Hyde was ugly; Yazoo was by no means ugly. Reno spoke so enthusiastically about the novella.

"Oh, is that so?" Yazoo remarked, still picking at his food. "Interesting.", he was looking his supervisor straight into eyes, and then shifted his eyes from him to Rude. He was looking at him maliciously, yet coldly and disinterestedly. In the end, he lowered his gaze to inspect the food given to him.

It was strange to him, how Reno became so friendly all of a sudden, and so enthusiastic while talking about the topic so boring, that would make even plants die a painful death. Secondly, the image of Rude in his apron and sunglasses that didn't fit the occasion at all, made him snort. 'Just who are you trying to fool?' he thought, labeling the bald man as someone whose company he could never enjoy.

On Reno's part, he just wanted to break the silence, but he didn't choose a random topic-Yazoo really reminded him of that character in many aspects, with many exceptions, too. He wasn't surprised at his protégé's lack of interest. The matter was soon forgotten and replaced by something that caught his eye and was particularly irksome; it was partly reasonable, and partly paranoid of Yazoo.

"Why aren't you eating your food, yo? You think it's poisonous or something?" the redhead took one morsel into his mouth, and then turned to his guest again. "Why would I waste my time visiting you every day and whatnot, if we wanted your death?"

"Just a measure of precaution, isn't it? But you needn't worry." Rude added. Yazoo looked at him again. Nice friend, indeed, who'd covered for the other…a tacit agreement between the two, about the race, during the interview. Really nice, indeed. Yazoo smirked.

"Not at all." He said, thinking about his options. They were eating the same food, weren't they? And truth be told, if Rufus was a man of word, why would they kill him, in such a way, no less?

"Here, I'll take some of your food, so you'll see for yourself, yo! Geez!" Reno sighed and dug his fork into Yazoo's spaghetti. "Mmmmmm…." He shoved the food into his mouth. "You make it delicious, Rude. Even such a plain food, you make it…" he was complimenting Rude, and the baldy seemed a bit embarrassed by the whole thing; he even blushed slightly. As much as Yazoo was disgusted by the sight, he let it pass, seeing how Reno was really doing this in order to reassure him-he ate half of his meal, for God's sake. It was somewhat comical, but not quite. He didn't feel the stir in his stomach. He caught himself expecting that Reno would ask him if he would like to read that novella of his, but he also knew that the redhead would never go to such lengths as to be friendly with him more than necessary, especially because it appeared that he loved that book very much.

"You know, on Earth, there was some king, who tricked all his enemies, I heard." Reno said, standing up and taking Yazoo's plate to refill it. "Sorry about the food, yo, but otherwise you'd starve." He walked off into the kitchen and returned shortly after, with Yazoo's plate full of spaghetti and Rude's special sauce. He placed it before Yazoo and sat in his chair again. "Namely, he drank small doses of poison every day, for months or something like that. So, eventually, he became immune to the poison, and his enemies couldn't kill him. I imagined you would do the same thing."

Yazoo observed him with his glassy eyes, disdainfully. Finally, he spoke. "You really have some stupidest ideas I ever heard." He finally said, although he really didn't mean that. His soul was as rough as emery, as if he'd lost his limb. He could still feel it, yet it wasn't there. This entire obsession with Earth didn't fit Reno's image, but, in a strange way, it did.

The redhead shook his head in disapproval, his wide green eyes looking at Rude's. The thing Yazoo said, to him, was such an insult, that he couldn't even fathom the pain it inflicted on his ego. "Do you hear this, Rude? That bastard has some nerve to insult me! And here we feed him!" To Yazoo, all of this seemed like a bad déjà vu. He thought about Loz and him, and how they'd tried to move the monument, and how he'd insulted the Turks, and so on and so forth. The redhead was shaking his head some more, then he stood up demonstratively, heading toward the kitchen.

"You really know how to push his buttons, don't you?" Rude remarked. "I apologize for his behavior. The thing is, he's such a sucker for literature and movies from Earth. Those merchants from the Blue Planet always bring him some piece of classical literature and stuff; old merits of an old civilization." Yazoo didn't say anything. He deemed it would be unwise to say anything to this man, in this situation. In a way, Rude looked funny behaving like this. But Loz never underestimated him, and Yazoo knew he shouldn't, too.

He took a bit of spaghetti in his mouth, never breaking the eye contact. "Your cuisine is lovely." He mouthed and smiled slightly.

* * *

After the dinner, the atmosphere was a bit more cheerful. Yazoo was sitting next to Reno on the sofa, waiting for Rude to bring them some dessert he'd prepared.

"I was thinking…" Reno said, looking at the screen. "I think we should spar sometimes. It would be such a waste if you lost your skills." He still remembered well how good it felt fighting with Yazoo. His speed, agility, the good old anticipation…The adrenaline rush had been so great that he felt ecstatic…Enraged and excited at the same time, he'd enjoyed the battle as much as he hated it.

"Hn…" Yazoo said, not liking the fact that he would spend some more time with Reno,despite their fights being epic. "What is the point in that, when it is I who always win?" Which was, undeniably, true. However, this time, Reno didn't let it get to him. He turned and looked at his guest.

"Fine, if you don't want it, I don't care." He shrugged. "But once you were a good fighter, I have to admit. And a good marksman…If I provided you with a gun…" His eyes were glued to the screen again. The truth was, the sight of Yazoo in battle was mesmeric. He wanted to see him again fighting so ardently, moving around and looking all malicious. He wanted to see that embodiment of evil, despite his task. He couldn't quite explain it, though. He didn't want Yazoo to be evil, to do illegal things, yet he still wanted to see how lethal he would be, if they simulated their fights a bit…Just a bit…The boy had to keep his condition…It was healthy, wasn't it? Trying to suppress his urges was futile; when he was around Yazoo he only thought about adrenaline and fun. He was a man of action.

"Fine. I'll do that for you." Yazoo finally replied. "Just to prove my point." And so, he accepted the challenge. "I also want to read that novella you love so much." He added, his reason being his incurable boredom. He was literate, which came as a relief to him; despite him being preoccupied with looking for Jenova's head, he'd managed to find some time to learn how to read. He'd never used this skill before, so he wanted to try it out. This caught Reno by surprise, but he didn't show it.

"Ok, sure." He said coolly, and handed him some old, thin book, when he was preparing to leave.

* * *

The book wasn't all that bad except for the register being a bit too formal, Yazoo thought, lying on his bed with it in his lap... but the man who was supposed to resemble him died in the end. What was it that Reno wanted to imply, Yazoo mused. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. Seriously, he didn't have to die…What a stupid book! Yazoo yawned, put it beside him, went under the covers and as soon as his head hit the pillow, fell asleep.

* * *

Several weeks later, when Reno's shoulder recovered a bit, they arranged a meeting on some hills nearby, and they engaged in a good fight. Seeing Reno's frowning and other face expressions was very amusing, in Yazoo's opinion. Legs were flying high into the air, blocking the pair of the enemy legs; and arms, also, protecting and blocking, hitting and missing. They chased one another for a while, and wrestled, too, and were so out of breath at one point, but still kept practicing. Reno's long, fiery ponytail was fluttering all around him, giving him grace of a wild animal. Yazoo was having sporadic episodes of hysteric laughter, but it only fueled Reno to pursue him and fight him.

Once or twice, Yazoo grabbed him by his ponytail and pulled it-it was so damn painful, and the redhead cursed loudly, but he soon forgot all about it, as they engaged in combat after combat.

"Say, you mentioned you would give me some weapon?" Yazoo said in the middle of their game.

"Yes, I did, but only if you promise you'd be a good boy." Reno said, smirking.

"I am a good boy, aren't I?" Yazoo gave into his game. "Am I going to die like that bipolar protagonist of yours?"

"So you read the book, yo? I completely forgot I gave it to you. Make sure to return it. And it depends on you if you're going to live or die."

"I never suffered like that man."

"Hopefully, you never will, my friend." Reno said, trying to give him a finishing blow, but Yazoo dodged it with ease.

Perhaps he needed a friend, in order to feel like a normal person. He just didn't know if Reno was to be trusted.

"I will be your friend if you give me the gun." Yazoo didn't intend to tell him that he'd found his story interesting and had purchased some poison from a rather suspicious person from the black market. He was going to drink a bit when he got home. This all seemed so fun right now, that he almost forgot about it.

"We'll figure something out." Reno gave a vague answer. The most important thing now was to gain Yazoo's trust. It would be easier for him to fulfill his task that way. "But first…we're going to club a bit, after tomorrow's race, ok?" If they intended to be friends, they needed their nights out, right?

Yazoo didn't reply, but continued fighting, feeling Reno's bones under his palms. He was so skinny, he deduced. But it didn't look bad on him. Reno took his silence as an affirmative answer.

* * *

**TBC…?**

**Errors will be corrected later. **


	7. But Your Lips are Venomous Poison

**AN: First of all, Merry Christmas to all who celebrate Catholic Christmas. Consider this a Christmas gift I gave you with all my heart! :)**

I have a lot of fun reading your reviews and they always make my day! Seriously, if it weren't for you people, this story would be long dead, and I don't want to stop writing it and sharing my love for Renzoo with you. I want to thank you all for your support!

It appears that my inspiration always comes when I really need to study. Just my luck…

**Very important:** From now on, until the end of the story, the song I'll be listening to while writing will be **_Mikansei to Guilt_ by Phantasmagoria**. Mikansei means 'incomplete/incompletion'. I think it fits the story nicely. Especially the title, but I'm not revealing anything! :) And I love how melody fits their moods. Oh well, you'll see for yourselves. The lyrics aren't bad either. I'll put the link on my profile, so you can check it out. You need to copy/paste it in your browser, for I don't know how to deal with links on this site . :( It would be nice if you could listen to the song while reading, for the atmosphere's sake.

This chapter is a bit contemplative, but has some action, too!

Well, enough blabbering, on with the story! Enjoy it and make sure to review!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 7: But Your Lips are Venomous Poison**

He didn't feel like doing it at all, but Reno insisted. Not that the redhead had said it out loud, but taking into account how many times he'd mentioned how they should go clubbing, it was clear that he was eager for some fun. What exactly Reno wanted to accomplish with it Yazoo wasn't sure, but he decided to go just this one time.

It had been some time since the last race he participated in—the last one being the one when he'd met Reno—for reasons unknown to him. He was at his limit now; he was craving for some adrenaline, for some excitement, because being an obedient citizen sometimes seemed very tiring. He never intended to give up, though, for he'd gone through many things in order to gain this much freedom, if you could call it so—what is freedom nowadays anyway? he mused, thinking about laws, taxes, and other things Gaia had in common with Earth, but that's a completely different story, the one Reno had been telling him about the day before—he'd gone this far in order to be like the rest of his kind, and he couldn't go on a rampage, could he? So the night was planned for the other kind of pleasure, in order for him to feel a little relieved, to satisfy his 'other side', his 'Hyde side', as Reno called it. He needed to be happy equally, on both sides.

Now, the races. They were a harmless fun, weren't they? It wasn't his fault his opponents died, a great number of opponents, to be precise, but he did no harm to them. He never carried weapons, never used tricks to destroy other bikes. It was his skill that made him win over and over again, millions of miles on his bike, a lot of experience gained through two whole years or so—the number of years he was actually alive—and his dark, dark past. He'd sparred with Reno once, and it felt kind of awkward. For some reason, he'd been too gentle when dealing with him, thinking about his dislocated shoulder—something that was his handiwork, or, if you'd like, his leg-work. He felt somewhat responsible for it and felt disgust toward that feeling, yet at the same time glad, for it was the feeling humans possessed.

It was not quite a feeling of responsibility that made him be gentle with him. Perhaps it was just that he hadn't had a fight in months and was a bit rusty. That was an option as well, wasn't it? He preferred the latter rather than the former. For his pride's sake. And for the fact that he didn't feel anything at all, at least not as intense as he should for it to be called a real, human feeling. He never contemplated this more than thirty seconds or less. He never cared to acknowledge that such dilemmas existed in a first place. The only thing he was certain of was the fact that he was looking forward to the race that would take place in less than an hour, and that he would feel that orgasmic feeling again, the feeling of victory, speed, malice of other opponents who envied him and wanted his blood. Another thing he knew was making him a bit uncomfortable—spending the rest of night with Reno in that club.

He never let it show on his face, any of those feelings, however. He never felt an urge strong enough to have any effect on his external reactions. Nothing could be compared to insulting of Jenova.

Reno had said him many things in these two and a half months they'd actually interacted. It had all started with a novella, and Yazoo never expected it to develop into something more; he'd never expected that Reno would tell him the stories about Earth and its history, its entire history, no less. It did seem interesting at some points, Yazoo mused, but not quite. People were foolish as much as they were foolish here. However, it didn't shake his resolve; he was a professional after all, wasn't he? He still wanted it. He still needed it, to know his existence had some purpose. He had to justify it.

Reno had given him several books and he read them at night for he had nothing smarter to do anyway; his job was hard; he had to cut all that meat, sell it from morning to evening, and die out of boredom. But seeing blood was worth doing it, to send him into ecstatic trance every time it spurted on his apron or face. Therefore, a book was a nice solution if he wanted to relax a bit. Reno'd bombarded him with seven classical pieces so far, from the 19th Century, if he remembered correctly. Sometimes he needed to read some critical reviews in order to understand the plot, characters, settings, since they were not of his world. No worries, for Reno had provided him with them all, as well. Yazoo could only conclude the following: 'Strange shit do they give him, filling his head with this…' But he himself enjoyed some of the books to some extent.

He was about to come out, when he stopped in his tracks. He turned around and went to the kitchen, mentally slapping himself for forgetting something so important—his daily dose of poison. When he'd heard Reno's story about the king who used this method to prevent others from poisoning him, he thought it was ridiculous, thought of Reno as a lunatic obsessed with another world, a man with bizarre ideas, but now it seemed quite a good and reasonable idea, to strengthen his body. He felt sick at times, really, really sick, he'd go pale and barely manage it through the day, but the effects of the poison had recently begun to be less severe. Now it was only nausea and sometimes, but rarely, a vertigo.

He smirked—something he rarely, if ever, did—at the thought that this showed some positive results; that all Reno's blabbering wasn't in vain. It was true. It was real. He opened the bottle and took a sip, then closed it and hid it under the sink—not a good place to hide things, but he didn't care. Who would come in? Who would ever be interested in his possessions?

He wiped his mouth, his mako eyes shining brightly with a dose of self-satisfaction. Now he was ready. He threw a glance at his small apartment, everything seemed neat, and headed toward the door.

* * *

Baishunpu (1) never hesitated. She liked strong men like him; she knew he was strong by seeing him do his job with perfection and ease, with a very sharp cleaver. She also knew that he never displayed all of his strength. She considered it a pity. This chubby woman of her twenty-five years was convinced that his strength could be used in various other ways than in being a mere butcher who lived in a tiny makeshift apartment, working for a low pay. The aura of mystery around him and the fact that he rarely spoke amounted to her vision of a wild animal that had to be tamed. His flame was yet to be seen, Baishunpu mused. His prowess in bed, that is. So she climbed the flight of stairs, and was about to knock on his door, when the door opened and he emerged.

"Good evening, Yazoo." She said in her usual low voice, his eyes half-open. They barely spoke to each other; he addressed her only when she assisted him in some pig slaughter or something equally disgusting her father ordered her to do.

His face was blank, as usual, but it didn't discourage her. There was this fact, too, that he was living an ascetic life, which meant he needed a woman. He must be feeling frustrated, she thought. She was a shallow woman, so this way of thinking wasn't unusual for her. When it came to sex and good fun, she would do almost everything. The reasons for such behavior are not so important; it can be either because she didn't have mother, or because she craved attention and some kind of acknowledgement, or, it could be as well that she was a nymphomaniac. Either way, she was a typical slut from the neighborhood and Yazoo didn't need the movies from Earth, which, by the way, Reno'd made him watch on several occasions, to know this.

"How can I help you?" He asked, forcing himself to be polite. Nobody was watching her and he wasn't afraid what her 'daddy' would say if she ran to him and told him he was being rude to her, but he did it anyway. He asked her in his deep, calm voice.

She blinked, a ton on makeup on her eyelids. Beautiful, vivid colors, but too many of them. He didn't notice this. He didn't need this right now. He had a race; he needed to go there. He didn't have time for this. She licked her lips suggestively, not wasting a second. "Actually, I need you to…" she leaned closer to him, putting her manicured hand on his leather-clad chest, oh it felt so firm and masculine she almost fainted, and breathed into his face.

However, no reaction came from him. The silver-haired remnant simply stood there, waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing. He was aware that a woman was standing before him, throwing herself at him, that she looked rather provocative and that she was clearly showing what was on her mind, but he felt neither nervous nor disinterested. It simply wasn't time for a sexual intercourse; he didn't need it. He didn't need a lover at this stage of his life-in-construction.

Baishunpu withdrew a bit, when she heard footsteps coming from behind. Yazoo looked past her, seeing a familiar mop of unkempt red hair so vivid that it could be visible in a pitch-black room. No lights were needed when Reno was around.

"Are you ready, yo?" Reno asked casually, not bothered by the fact that the butcher's daughter was there, about to assault his protégé. He only smirked. "Good evening, miss." He added. He'd never seen this side of Yazoo and here he hoped he could teach the remnant how to seduce a woman, to 'show him how humans lived'. In a way, he thought of himself as someone who could enlighten him as on so many things. It was his duty, wasn't it? What was more, it was fun doing it. Teaching him his' first steps' among the humankind. "I tried to reach you on your cell phone, but you didn't answer. I had to come all the way into this…yard." He wanted to say smelly, but the lady was there.

Baishunpu looked at the interrupter, forming a new idea in her mind. "And where are you going, may I ask?" she said politely.

"Goin' clubbin', miss." Reno said, looking at Yazoo, in question. Did she know about his racing? His eyes asked. But before he could read any answer from Yazoo's blank features, she said she wanted to go with them. She ran her red-colored fingernail across Yazoo's chest, still close to him more than politeness allowed. For a moment, words in Reno's throat refused to cooperate and remained stuck, but they needn't come anyway, for Yazoo spoke.

"Sure, sweetheart." He said, taking her chin gently between his long fingers, bringing his face close to hers. Reno stood agape at the sight. "Come with us." Yazoo purred.

* * *

On their way to Midgar, they didn't exchange a word. From the corner of his eye, Reno noticed that Yazoo was paler than usual, but refrained from asking. The youth wouldn't tell him anyway so he didn't want to waste his breath on questions that would never be answered. With the slutty woman in the backseat, they moved smoothly toward their destination. This time, Reno was more prepared for the upcoming event than he'd been when he'd been there for the first time.

Getting out of the car was a bit difficult to Yazoo, who felt a bit dizzy. Just vertigo, he thought, that would pass. It was the matter of seconds, but, as it was usually the case, this unpleasant feeling seemed to last for minutes.

Yet again, Reno didn't say anything, even though he noticed Yazoo needed an awful lot of time to get out of the car. Despite his pragmatic mind, Yazoo was still a puzzle to him. He couldn't tell if they made any progress toward friendship. He couldn't tell what Yazoo thought about it all, if he spared it a thought at all. And why he was so pale at times.

* * *

Baishunpu hadn't seemed surprised when Reno informed her of Yazoo's participation in the race, for, she'd explained, her daddy used to do the same thing. It was illegal and she didn't want to put Yazoo into any trouble. She wanted his cock, after all. In a way, he was a challenge, and she was willing to try to conquer him with everything that was at her disposal. What a simple mind, Reno thought. Her hungry eyes never left the silver haired man.

Yazoo embarked on this journey alone. Reno could hear the 'greasy guy' remark how Yazoo hadn't brought with him his accessory, his lucky charm, or something like that. It referred to him, he knew it, but he didn't care. The most important thing was to watch Yazoo win with his talent and not wicked designs, and enjoy it to the fullest.

During the race, he felt nausea several times and his vision blurred for long periods, but he managed somehow, relying on his other senses, and, for the first time in his life, luck. He didn't come out as a winner in the end, and he ended up with a few scratches –the race was rather boring in his view, and Reno was too excited, seeing his sickly face on the screen to pay real attention to it, so many details of it are lacking. He was lucky to be alive. However, even though he didn't feel well, he dismounted the bike gracefully, and the crowd was still cheering for him, admiring his skill and his lithe body.

Thinking of the possibility that Yazoo's pride was shattered, Reno didn't say anything, but simply showed him to follow him and Baishunpu into the bar. There was one thing, however, that caught his eye—a glimpse of satisfaction in Yazoo's eyes, not so intense as before, but still present—which reminded him of the aftermath of sex. For a second, he wondered if Yazoo had come in his pants.

* * *

The night had passed pretty much how Yazoo hoped it would pass. Baishunpu had been making passes at Reno, who complied to some extent. He was dancing with her, buying her drinks, and talking to her, all the time looking in his direction as if he wanted to say: "This is how we do it. Now watch and learn." He didn't need a lover. He didn't need a low-class prostitute either. To get one, he needn't any skill, he mused. Having watched from his safe place in the Lifestream several months prior, he knew at least that much. At this stage, when his life was still going in uncertain direction, he didn't need a partner.

What Reno considered an act of politeness, turned out to be something else. He'd thought of a possibility to sleep with Baishunpu—if Yazoo didn't want to use her advances, he could do it, couldn't he?—he'd remembered the prostitute from before, his promise to her he never kept. With Baishunpu, he could do it for free, couldn't he? But there was something in the way, which made him postpone this idea; the thing being Elena's phone call. She'd wanted to talk to him about their relationship, apparently. To make him think about reconciling. About being with her again, something as a permanent deal. Something that would last. Perhaps something almost all people longed for—feeling of warmth and belonging to something, whatever it was. But she was off to some mission now, and had asked him to wait for her to return. He'd sighed, shrugged, and agreed. What else could he have done? However he looked at it, he could see it as inevitable; opportunities that life offered should never be rejected, especially when they led to some equilibrium in life. Perhaps it was time to settle, if the adrenaline let him.

* * *

When he came to the shop that day, he could hear Yazoo cut something in the back. Shortly after, Yazoo emerged from the back, carrying some meat. He carefully arranged it for the customers to see. That day, however, there were not many customers. It was a nice, boring day, with rain pouring without stopping for a minute, like a whiny brat whose parents couldn't persuade him that everything would be fine or that he would get a new toy.

"Hard-working, as always, I see, yo!" Reno greeted him. It was almost seven o'clock; the time Yazoo usually closed the shop. "Don't you feel tired, lonely, bored…? Working all day long? Where's that old man who owns this place?" He asked. He didn't see any sign that Yazoo was tired, his face seemed so plastic, but he surmised that everyone had to be tired after being so long in one place.

"Reminiscing." Yazoo replied laconically. The answer didn't seem logical to the redhead. He frowned. Did Yazoo even know what that meant? Could anyone spend the entire day reminiscing and doing nothing else? Leaving this dilapidated place to a complete stranger to do all the business, and perhaps steal from him? He didn't ask Yazoo, however, what he meant by it.

They climbed to his apartment; Yazoo didn't even let him enter; with a graceful gesture of his hand he showed him to wait outside. Shortly after, he returned with books in his arms.

"I see you read them all. Care to talk about them, yo?" Reno asked, finally seeing no purpose in piling them up in Yazoo's apartment if the man wasn't reading them at all. This situation was awkward. He knew that both of them were in a trap. Yazoo was probably wondering if he was supposed to feel anything about the books, to have any impression, the purpose of reading them and Reno bringing them to him.

Finally, Reno realized that there was probably no purpose in sharing his most intimate passions with someone who didn't know how to appreciate them. More accurately, with someone who was still a complete stranger. This was a bad approach to the issue of befriending a former remnant, he mused. "Doesn't matter anyway." He waved his hand, took the books, and turned to leave.

Yazoo snorted and closed the door. He didn't know why he'd read everything Reno brought to him, but he'd done it. One thing was certain-he didn't want them anymore. They were requiring him to be static longer than his body should. He didn't want them anymore, even though his mind found them somewhat interesting. He'd tested his reading abilities. He could read. It proved he was a human being. He didn't need them anymore.

* * *

There were several occasions when Reno saw Yazoo stumble, and once he heard him vomit in the toilet in the back of the shop. He asked him only once if he was okay, and Yazoo refused to reply. He was looking at him with blank, blurry eyes, as if in question. 'What are you talking about' his eyes said; Reno could see insolence in them and he hated Yazoo for his stubbornness. He knew Yazoo didn't feel less uncomfortable around him—he knew at least that much. He knew it wasn't in his nature to tell him anything, to regard him as someone who was friendly toward him. It was only reasonable, but he was starting to lose patience. Yazoo's insolence and disdain with which he looked at him from time to time insulted him. However, he was doing his best to remain calm.

The next time they went out, Reno made sure to make the atmosphere more casual, to give Yazoo some space, so he talked to the hostess, flirted with some other women, occasionally trying to pick a conversation with him, but Yazoo was a hard nut to crack, as expected of him.

Looking at this paradoxical man, who could one moment talk for centuries about some irrelevant and utterly stupid things such as philosophy, and the other try to seduce at least six women in twenty-five minutes, to Yazoo was unheard of. Seeing him gesture dramatically to prove his point with genuine interest in the topic, while the dim lights made the red tattoos under his eyes darker, neon lights occasionally playing with the vibrant color of his thick hair, Yazoo was trying to process all the data he knew about Reno.

He wasn't interested in seeing him flatter those hostesses, trying to impress them with his vocabulary, in the most pathetic ways; it was boring however he looked at it. He didn't particularly mind being left out of communication, but that way he felt idle and saw no point in staying. Being here with Reno, the entire concept of them clubbing seemed ridiculous to him and he did it only because of the report Reno might write. He had a clear vision of his goal in his mind, and the redhead's reports were needed for maintaining his little paradise called monotony of life.

What he knew about him? Did he care to know anything? Reno was just a redheaded hottie who seemed to be glue for women; an impulsive man easily offended, infinitely proud, reckless but nevertheless professional, a good fighter (no better than him, though), had a strange hobby, had strange ways of getting closer to him, or whatever his objective was, and, and…

"…I could take you there sometime…" Reno was telling something to some woman. How could he make promises to random strangers? Was that a lie? Why did he have to watch it all; it was incredibly pathetic? In his view, it was absolutely without a point.

Some man approached him, trying to strike up a conversation. Yazoo labeled him as 'homosexual'; he'd heard the term somewhere and now finally connected the meaning with the real example. The man was in his thirties, but given the fact that the bar they were frequenting was infamous, he was no better. He looked like someone who could be a smuggler, or a drug dealer, or something from that branch of business. However, despite the fact that he looked all dangerous, when seeing Yazoo's cold stare, he backed up a little. Yazoo rejected him, for he didn't need anything from anyone. It wasn't the time for it yet. He hadn't settled all the things yet, he thought while rejecting the criminal.

A few feet from him, Reno was still talking with some nice lady, he thought sarcastically, tilting his head aside. He shifted on his feet, his body itching from all that sweat—the room was crammed full of people— he reached for his chest to scratch the itching spot, when he felt a bulge under his leather jacket. Then he remembered—it was a small bottle of poison; Reno had come sooner than he expected him, so he had no time to drink his daily dose, so he'd brought it with him, to drink it when Reno wasn't looking—and suddenly thought of a way to end this ridiculous show. He felt terribly bored and this could cheer him up.

He took the bottle carefully out of his breast pocket, looked around, and when he was sure nobody was looking, poured some poison in Reno's drink that was on the counter, impatiently expecting him to drink it and rush into the restroom to vomit. His frantic mind hoped the redhead wouldn't make it to the restroom in time. Playing pranks on Reno…Sounded interesting.

Several minutes passed, and when the redhead felt his throat was dry from all the talking, he took several gulps from his glass. He cheerfully carried on talking, when, suddenly, his eyes widened; his hands reached for his throat for he was choking. He started to cough and was soon on the ground, shaking as if having a seizure, white foam forming around his mouth. Where were his women now? They were gone.

Apparently, Yazoo had poured too much poison in his drink and now he was aware of it. He was aware of the sounds screaming around Reno, the crowd around them, someone calling the ambulance, while he stood there, watching him, partly in shock and something that was not quite fear, and partly in utter pleasure. He hadn't the slightest intention of helping him.

* * *

**TBC…? I know this was a very long chapter, I hope you weren't bored to death and that you actually liked it. Please post a review!**

**Errors will be corrected least most of them. ^^'**

(1 ) A prostitute in Japanese; I made this name up for this story, it cannot be found in real life, of course. :)


	8. A Positive Influence

**AN:** Instead of finishing reading Murakami-sensei's great novel (I have some free time on my hands), I decided to write this. Even though the number of reviews (and readers, obviously) has decreased during this month, I decided to continue this story. I have the entire plot set in my mind, but if you have some ideas of your own, don't hesitate to PM me. I will try to incorporate them with my ideas, so they fit nicely in the story. I don't want the story to become boring to you guys. As for the smut—relax, it _will_ come, eventually.

Now, on with the story! I hope you will enjoy it and please leave a comment!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 8: A Positive Influence**

Yazoo had seen a lot from his place in the Lifestream. He'd seen people who thought they could cure everything with alcohol, be it their boredom, some terrible wound inflicted upon their soul, or something else. He'd seen how it all, actually, never worked; all those people got was a terrible hangover, cirrhosis of the liver, death eventually for some of them. Alcohol was never even a temporary solution, since they remembered their mishaps and disasters more vividly when drunk.

Such was the case with him poisoning Reno. He'd taken some of the pleasure out of it, but he himself never enjoyed his small doses of poison. He could have only imagined how Reno had felt, having drunk ten times more than he himself had. Still, it was not enough for him to empathize with his, so to say, victim. Boredom had taken over soon after. The ambulance had picked him up; Yazoo never followed. Only after several days had he entered the door of Reno's hospital room, only to find the redhead in poor state; the doctors had told him that he had barely managed to survive.

* * *

His vital functions were stable now, but he felt terribly exhausted. He was at his apartment now, resting comfortably on the sofa in his living room. He'd left the hospital several days prior, and much to his discomfort, had to endure Rude carrying him all the way to the car, and then to the elevator, and place him on the bed, too. Not to mention that he hadn't the strength to even wash himself. Rude had had to take care of everything, pretending he had been oblivious to him being embarrassed. That had been a huge blow to his already shattered ego.

He was in a somewhat better condition now; he was able to wash himself and eat a bit, without anyone's help. However, the traces of his previous self were nowhere to be seen. Humiliated, weary of his struggle to stay alive, bitter because of the ungrateful behavior on Yazoo's part, and his inability to understand him, he spoke little, thought of nothing In particular, just sitting there, wrapped in blankets, huge comfortable pillows helping him remain in a sitting position.

Not once had the image of Yazoo flashed before his eyes. He'd leaned over the bed, inspecting the redhead's pale face, with black circles under his eyes. Jet-black circles. He'd told the doctor that Reno was turning blue, in his calm, nonchalant voice, as always. It was ringing in his ears, making his head hurt even worse. He was aware that he was having another seizure, but could do nothing about it. His body was shaking violently, moving on its own accord, every bone, muscle, sinew hurting terribly. Somewhere along the way, he temporarily lost his eyesight, ability to speak, or even hear what was happening around him. After every seizure, he felt like his spine had been torn from the rest of his body; his eyeballs burning with fever, as if million long, hot needles from the ninth circle of Hell had been piercing his flesh.

After the seizure, Yazoo returned to his bedside, observing him with something he could only call skeptical look or something, but he wasn't sure. Nor did he care. He wanted to shout at him, to jump from the bed and strangle him with his own hands, see him roll his eyes, turn blue and die a horrible death. A thousand horrible deaths. That was what he was thinking, frantically, while helplessly burning holes in Yazoo with his blood red eyes. But the remnant only said that he looked terrible. A smirk was on his face. He was frowning, too. And then, gracefully, he turned around and left, his long silver hair swinging in the process. Immediately after, his mind went blank and he passed out.

That had been the only time Yazoo visited him. It was two weeks ago. Reno wondered what the remnant had been doing all the time, but he knew that as soon as Rude came, he would find out. Namely, his ever-caring best friend, roommate, and colleague, had taken the responsibility of checking on Yazoo whenever he could, until Reno recovered. The redhead wasn't sure if he wanted to see Yazoo in his life ever again, but job was job, he'd asked for it himself, and now he was stuck with this psychotic…pathetic replica of a human (that's how he christened Yazoo's appearance now) for more than two and a half years. His professional side was ensuring him that he would succeed to carry out the task, and that was calming him down a bit. His pride was too strong to be shattered that easily, he thought, managing a weak, cocky smirk. Yazoo was yet to see who he really was.

* * *

He was about to finish packing the meat for the next day, when that bald loony entered the store. He'd been visiting him ever since Reno had been hospitalized. If Reno was boring, Rude was a million times more boring than him, Yazoo mused. This man was stiff, barely talked to him, taking a cold and more professional stance. In a way, it looked ridiculous on him, that frown on his face, expensive suit, and sunglasses. It was getting dark, yet he never gave up and kept them on.

Yazoo disliked the aura Reno's partner emitted. He couldn't quite explain why, but that was how the things were, and if his instincts were telling him something was wrong with this man who liked to choose an apron and sunglasses to wear at home in the same combination, who was he to ignore them? Besides, aside of his skills, he always relied on his instincts when fighting, talking, or doing anything else. Even though he'd lost his first battle, he was certain that this one he was surely to win. Just a little over two and a half years, and he would be able to prove that.

Rude was carrying some ridiculous basket full of citrus fruits and apples. Reno had told him once about the custom on Earth, to bring this package to the sick person. He called it 'get-well…something'. He couldn't remember the context in which this fact fit, he never paid full attention to what Reno was speaking anyway. His pointless talk seemed to be useful to Yazoo now, for he was able to cut Rude off the same second the bald man opened his mouth to give the definition of the item he was holding. It gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction, even though he would be more delighted to do wicked and possibly deadly things to the man before him.

"This is…"

"A 'get-well' thing." Yazoo finished instead of him. "That much I see. But why did you feel the need to share your vast knowledge with me?" He asked, and even though his voice sounded as natural as always, it appeared to Rude strangely unearthly; to top it off, it sounded as if he were hissing. Sarcasm was ever-present whenever Yazoo addressed him. Rude lowered his head, shifted on his feet in discomfort, and cleared his throat, before looking at Yazoo again.

"Reno is feeling a bit better now. This is the least you can do for him, after all the damage that you caused."

Yazoo raised his delicate eyebrow, untying his hair and taking off the white cap he was required to wear at work. "What, feed him with these things? As far as I know, he can do it himself now." He replied absent-mindedly, while disappearing into the changing room, to take his white apron off. "I hear he will fully recover."

"As your temporary guardian, I require of you to go and visit him." Rude said, his voice deep but tremulous. Seeing Yazoo was breathtaking, in a sense that the man seemed perfectly stable one moment, but able to cause harm before one even realized he was causing it.

"ShinRa never appointed you my guardian." Yazoo said. "Oh well" He returned from the changing room, passing by Rude gracefully, swaying his hips yet managing to look manly. "It appears he never abides the rules, does he?" He opened the door and shook the key card in his hand to show Rude that they were leaving. Rude cleared his throat once again, and followed him.

"He does it for your sake."

"I don't remember asking him to do anything for me." Yazoo said coldly. "He's just a hindrance."

"Can't you appreciate it just a little? He's really trying to help you adapt to the surroundings. He always gives you the chance to start from scratch. He wouldn't do it if he didn't find it possible." Rude stuttered a bit while talking. Yazoo turned around and looked at him.

"My, my, are we talkative today." He remarked. "Seeing I have no use of you, I might as well go and tell him myself to stop acting like ever forgiving nun." He extended the hand and Rude gave him the basket, feeling somewhat accomplished while doing so.

* * *

Yazoo didn't have any particular thoughts on the subject. He was aware of the fact that Reno was needed in order for him to be allowed to stay in Midgar and Edge, and live a peaceful life, the life his kind had, after all. He wanted to consider all the opportunities given to him, to prove that he could do it, to prove it to himself, to Kadaj, to ShinRa, who so hypocritically had their Mother all along…But Mother was just an absurd term for a box of some malign cells, a cancer that had once inflicted the planet and now was gone. He had no other choice but go along ShinRa's wishes, if he wanted to justify his existence.

Confronting Reno was not something he wanted to do right now, but Rude had left him without a choice. Perhaps, if he were able to have a better grasp of what compassion and tolerance really were, he would have felt sympathy toward the one who acted cheerful around him, who'd shown him how things were working here; who'd tried to show him the importance of socializing, to explain in non-scientific language that humans were sociable beings. Reno knew that dry theory would never suffice, so he'd provided him with a practical example Yazoo didn't know how to appreciate. The remnant was sure Reno's thoughts were going along those lines, and, if only he could understand how his actions toward Reno were unjust, could he call it a progress in general.

But things weren't developing in that direction, at least not yet. Perhaps this one time, trying to make Reno explain himself would make him trust him if only for a bit. But he was sure that Reno would expect an explanation from him first. He, on the other hand, had no explanations to offer. His actions had been impulsive, like an unstoppable urge, to do something malicious, to satisfy his carnal instinct for tormenting other people.

Wordlessly, Rude and he entered the elevator. They entered the apartment. Rude instructed him to take off his boots, to hang the coat on the hat stand that was set in the corner, right from the entrance door. Reno lifted himself a bit, looking over the back of the sofa to whom Rude was talking. Upon seeing Yazoo, he calmed himself down, trying to act as composed as possible. Truth be told, he _had_ been furious, but now all of it seemed to melt away. Being calm to him was essential, to show how superior he could be, and that Yazoo's devices could do nothing to him. It was futile, in a way, to try to maintain such an image, but he did it anyway.

As soon as they got rid of their respective coats and footwear, Rude disappeared into the kitchen. Yazoo picked the basket from the floor, and made a few steps, sidestepping the sofa, and stopped before Reno, who was encircled with large white pillows and blankets, laptop in his lap.

"Look who I see, yo! My sweet little rebel!" He propped himself up on his elbows that were resting on the pillows, carefully, as to not let the laptop drop on the floor. "Did you miss me?"

Yazoo snorted and showed Reno the basket he was holding. "Your friend…was too shy to give this to you himself, so he made me do it." He said, placing it on the part of the sofa unoccupied by Reno's legs. "Be a good boy now and eat them." He had a wicked smirk on his face, as if he wanted to emphasize his heavy sarcasm with it.

"Well, he was just trying to teach you some manners in my absence." Reno remarked. "I plan on sparring with you as soon as I get well, so that I could teach you how to behave when dealing with _me_." He hissed.

"Man, aren't we angry." Yazoo chuckled, taking the liberty to sit in the armchair facing Reno. "You can't blame me, though; I was bored, and you paid no attention to me whatsoever. Boy was I lonely…" He faked a sorrowful sigh.

If only he had the strength to stand up and beat him into a pulp, but he was still too weak. After spitting all the venom he had, Yazoo said nothing; neither did Reno. They were sitting in silence, hearing every now and then sounds of Rude preparing dinner. Reno was looking at his companion intently, trying to filter his anger out so that he could think rationally. This thought had occurred to him several times, and now when he had Yazoo sit in the same room with him, he wanted to ask him and confirm his suspicions.

"I was thinking about something, and if it is true, then all the pieces fit where they should." Reno started. "Say that you didn't have the forethought to kill me, there must be another reason for you to carry the poison. I thought about it a bit, how you staggered, how you had difficulties to stay on your feet sometimes…and how you didn't win that race…Is it possible that you were taking the poison to strengthen your body?"

"What a power of deduction!" Yazoo remarked. "So what if I was?"

"Then you don't think my talk about that king was stupid. This means I have a positive influence on you."

Yazoo didn't think the idea of staying with Reno a minute longer was good. He didn't understand how he had the power to overcome his evident rage and try to be friendly with him again. A professional at heart, Yazoo labeled him. 'Nothing of this is for real, nor do I expect it to be. That's so unnecessary. Another ShinRa dog wagging its tail.'

"Hn." He said, despising the situation now, and how the things were developing In general. Something was terribly amiss and he couldn't put a finger on what it was. With no one to rely on, now that Loz and Kadaj were God knew where, he'd learned to be on his own. Reno was just a hindrance, a happy-go-lucky type of a man who was just tagging along, trying to be his friend or something that he labeled as such. Yazoo wasn't sure if he needed it, and wondered how he could manage not to kill him during these two years and more. But it wasn't it that irked him. It was not just it. Being this idle, the very fact that he was sitting there, his body completely motionless, was becoming unbearable. He remained calm, however. Despite everything, he was curious to know where this all would lead.

* * *

In the days that followed, Rude had him visit Reno daily. He didn't mind, having surrendered when he'd seen there was no purpose In resisting. It was either that, or finding ways of avoiding Baishunpu and trying to collect himself enough not to pour her teeth down her throat. Maybe then, he would make her shut up.

Leading such an idle life was tiring. The things he deemed peaceful and calm made him irritated. He found only pleasure in freshly cut meat, blood on his hands, face, and clothes. No feeling of fulfillment came out of it as the time progressed. The days that followed were blank, dull, making void in his chest go wider.

* * *

Relief came weeks later, when Reno recovered barely enough to spar with him. They had to do it slow, to take it easy on one another for the redhead was still weak. Nevertheless, he was a somewhat competent opponent and Yazoo didn't complain. Once, Reno remarked how fighting to Yazoo meant the same thing as having sex. Yazoo told him if he wanted him to reach his 'orgasm', he has to get stronger as fast as he could, for their sparring couldn't be compared even with a hard-on. This was just a clever remark on Yazoo's part, just to match Reno's, and to show him he was not so much witty. Yazoo excelled at everything Reno didn't.

Reno's recovery was slow, but he was encouraged by Yazoo in great amounts. Cruel remarks, even crueler attacks were his means of accomplishing this. Another thing that encouraged him to recover faster was the fact that he felt some kind of restlessness within Yazoo. When he asked him if he had any doubts about what he was now, what he was doing, and what he wanted to do in the future, Yazoo refused to answer.

The silver haired man's resolve was at its highest. The need for justification of his existence was able to put astray everything else, but it wasn't enough. He needed a constant reassurance that he was doing things right. He never dared admit his system was falling apart, having missing some essential elements, which it should have had by nature. He ignored all of that. Of all uncertainties, he thought as traits humans possessed.

As his health improved, Reno came to realize that Yazoo was losing balance between his present and former self, having a distorted image of what fun should represent. 'As long as I keep his body in motion, he will be fine.' He thought. And so they sparred, and Yazoo's feeling of discomfort soon disappeared. He found the balance by living a dull life as a butcher at day, and sparring with Reno and riding his bike whenever he could. Reno was bravely taking blows and dodging them. Yazoo was safe for now.

And the youth in question felt better as well. Reno proposed many things Yazoo should include in his life, to enrich it and feel fulfilled. He asked why his boss didn't hire another man, or, if accommodation was problem for that person, why he didn't hire Baishunpu. Yazoo shrugged his shoulders, giving a vague answer. He never felt like talking, or being in Reno's presence, but it was inevitable. Reno wanted him to make progress at any cost. Yazoo was aware of his effort, but was unable to appreciate it. He never expected anything, and never could do much but think how Reno was devoted to his career.

* * *

Once, while they were sparring, Reno felt it stronger than ever. The concept of Yazoo-the very essence of everything he was doing. Namely, he'd hit Yazoo perhaps too strong—to his own surprise—and the remnant remained lying motionless. That was when it struck him; the fragility of Yazoo, that how he could disappear like a cigarette smoke, to dissipate like the first time. He was aware that it was generous of the Lifestream to give the villain the second chance, seeing how Earth never gave any, and how Gaia wasn't too prone on giving them either—something harsh reality was taking care of—and that the third chance may never occur. Yazoo'd grasped that second chance as his privilege, the only one he had. He was endeavoring to find his place, to experience everything, while casting aside his former self, his suppressed desires, but did everything at a slower pace.

Everything Yazoo had been through had happened extremely fast, and that was why he needed time. A great amount of time, Reno realized. Everything should be fine, if only he opened his eyes. He shook the man slightly, but Yazoo wouldn't move.

"Hey, Yazoo, don't fool around." He scolded, shaking him with more force now. "Yazoo…" He called his name, but Yazoo lay motionless. "Man, come on, yo!" It was in vain. "Can't believe this, after all the way you passed to get to where you are now." He said nervously, shaking him violently now. "Hey, Yazoo!" But Yazoo lay lifeless.

* * *

He still couldn't find it amusing, as Yazoo found it was. To pretend he was dead and make Reno dance around him, shake him and, eventually, be beside himself from fear. The remnant had opened his eyes and chuckled, giving Reno the finishing blow. The redhead argued it hadn't been a fair play, but Yazoo ignored him, mounted his bike, and left him on the cliff.

The sound of Reno's worried voice refused to leave his eardrums. It was practically singing, but Yazoo managed to ignore it. He decided to award Reno, however, for all the care he'd given him during the past two months, by being less hostile, but still on guard. He still couldn't determine if Reno was being honest while dealing with him everyday, making him go clubbing again, go drink coffee at random cafés in Edge, and even visit Tifa once—when Cloud wasn't around. She had been all reserved and suspicious of him—she was pregnant after all, and protective of her child. But Reno had been reassuring her, and soon she warily offered her hand to Yazoo, who coldly refused it.

He mused, if the Turk had taken him to his friends' place, perhaps he trusted him. Then it wasn't all business. The only thing that he was sure of, however, was that Reno hadn't been faking his worry. Hw wasn't sure how to take it, how to categorize it, how to regard Reno. This was confusing him. He never asked for it, but a hand of friendship had been offered to him. Now it was up to him whether to accept it or not. And if he accepted it, what to do with it? Into what to transform it?

* * *

**TBC…? Next chapter: I'm not telling…Ok, I'll give you a hint: A long awaited…something! :)**

**All the errors will be corrected later. **


	9. Ecstatic Trance

**AN:** I decided to write another chapter for ones that still read this, no matter the number. Three people—three people; it's important that they are there. :) That's what my good friend, Demonic Alice (or whatever pen name she has taken now) has taught me: to write for myself and the little audience I have; if I made one person happy, it's considered a success. So I decided to write a chapter nine, despite the fact that the number of reviews and number of chapters aren't in the proportion I want them to be anymore.

**New Music:** This chapter was inspired by the Jrock all girl band named Exist Trace. The song is called Lilin. Feel free to listen to it while reading; I strongly recommend it. It has nothing to do with the lyrics, just the melody and rhythm.

**Dedication:** to my good friend, Demonic Alice (at the moment), aka Kai-chan.

I won't bother you anymore. Sit back, enjoy yourselves, and long awaited _something_!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 9: Ecstatic Trance**

As the time was passing by, Reno had been present at more and more events regarding Yazoo's racing. He would observe the large screen with great concentration, and every time, no matter how much he tried to suppress the feeling of anxiety and fear for his protégé's life, he couldn't. Every time, despite the number of races he'd attended, he couldn't quite get used to it. The atmosphere was amazing—all that crowd, cheering, enormous screens blinding his eyes, sound of the bikes beaming from all directions, Yazoo returning safely and refusing to claim his prize. Every time, Yazoo would confidently dismount his massive bike, strolling toward him and looking at him with a weak, cocky smirk attached to his pale face. He'd bow to the crowd, and then they would usually go inside the bar and have a few drinks.

Despite the incident, Reno didn't feel uncomfortable drinking in Yazoo's company; the entire case of Yazoo poisoning him still didn't seem trivial, and whenever he thought about it, a shiver would run down his spine. There was one thing, however, that he had learned over the period—namely, while clubbing with Yazoo, he should just take his drinks with him, never leave them on the table or a counter, and he shouldn't, as well, have many participants in his conversations. It appeared that the remnant disliked being left out of conversation even though he never had a thing to offer, be it a topic, or a few lines that would support it. That was the recipe he stuck to, and behaving in that manner helped them relax around Yazoo.

Every now and then, he wondered what it would feel like to experience once again that possibly-lethal-race with a man for who he wasn't entirely sure whether he was sane or not. By now, he had learned that Yazoo had his moods and phases that had no particular pattern. The remnant would randomly be rude and cruel to him; other times he would be more accessible, bordering on friendly, even. The redhead took whatever was offered to him, in order to carry out his task perfectly.

Six months had passed since he had been appointed Yazoo's supervisor. Seeing as how Yazoo was, in an awkward way, but still, eager to be what everyone thought was impossible, he decided to omit in his reports everything that could discriminate him. He omitted races, poisoning, his dislocated shoulder, naturally. He partly did this because it would bring his position into question as well. Sure, Yazoo was one tough creature to handle (he had, by now, became accustomed to referring to him in his mind as a person, but others most probably hadn't), but he shouldn't have tolerated so much misbehavior. By default, he should have reported him, in order for ShinRa to subdue him, or even put him to death, which was more probable.

In living day-to-day like this, in constant anticipation as to what would happen next and testing his readiness to react properly to each situation, Reno found endless opportunities. Being with the silver haired youth was mostly fun; therefore he was curious what the following days and months would bring them. The tension and hostility were present one day, absent or replaced by a light friendly atmosphere another, in Yazoo's way, that is. He still spoke so little, and when he spoke, he usually had sarcastic remarks on his tongue ready to be launched. Reno didn't mind them at all, since he himself was a fierce orator and never feared any kind of battle, let alone a battle with words.

* * *

Yazoo stood before him, as the crowd nervously and excitedly waited for him to mount his bike and start the race. The other competitors—a bunch of hooligans and ex-convicts, all possible scum one could imagine; the ones that loved such games where there was no term 'cheating', where everything was allowed—were growling in impatience. The remnant seemed unaffected by this and Reno knew why—if Yazoo wanted, he could smash their skulls on spot, but he was a nice person now, or at least was trying to be. He knew that the remnant never killed anyone; he was actually only good at tormenting others.

"How about a ride?" he offered. "You're not scared, are you?" his singsong voice echoed in the Turk's ears.

"No. It's _perfectly _fine with me, yo!" Reno replied. The remnant turned elegantly and headed to his bike, the redhead in tow. He mounted the bike, put his goggles on, placed his arms firmly around his protégé, finally embarking on another journey of fear and pain.

This time was almost the same; Yazoo could feel that Reno was not entirely comfortable riding like this, even though he had experienced many dangerous things and was, in most cases, cold-blooded. But it wasn't as bad as the first time, he concluded and chuckled, looking straight ahead, and avoiding one mace that was sent to smash his crazy head. He was determined to make Reno trust him with his own life. He didn't know exactly why he set that objective, but it was surely one fun thing to think about.

* * *

While sitting in the booth, after yet another successful race, surrounded by the gothic music full of sweet sounds embodying decadence, he enjoyed the silence he shared with his companion, who was now resting in a half-lying position. The air around them was damp with sweat from bodies dancing all around them in the rhythm of the music; their voices seemed distant and all reeked of sorrow; smoke all around them and people taking drugs in corners, leaned against the cold black walls, or sliding down them. He looked at Reno, whose eyes were only half-open, as if he was about to fall asleep and leave him in this hot, stuffy place.

The hollow feeling in his chest grew bigger as his mind melted in the gothic melody, which became overwhelming, so much that his thoughts drifted far away, to where Kadaj and Loz where, wherever that may be. Some time ago, he had realized that everything was going in a wrong direction, ever since Reno had seen him for the first time, at this very same place. The entire concept of him lying and omitting things in his reports seemed awfully paradoxical. Perhaps something bad was about to develop from all of this, Yazoo mused. Yet his heart never felt sad while waiting for it to happen. It was still far away, anyway. His soul, like emery, was rough.

Somewhere along the way, his thoughts returned to the present, where he came to realization that Reno wasn't dozing off, but rather, observing him. Every feature of his face was put under his scrutiny. What was he looking for? Some humanity in this body that seemed so artificial? Was it so strange for one man to be this agile, for his mind to be this simple yet pragmatic and, in most cases, precise? Was it so strange for him to be like this, in entirety, whatever that may be that the redhead had in mind?

* * *

Knowing that they worked on the same principle of adrenaline addiction, the remnant was sure that Reno would come to like racing. Seven months had passed since their first encounter after him falling out of the Lifestream. Reno was now sitting behind him and shouting in excitement and enjoyment, ducking in synchrony with him, avoiding all dangers and obstacles, their hairs disheveled. He wasn't a hundred percent secure on Yazoo's bike, however. Nevertheless, he managed to give in and enjoy it as much as he could. Whenever he dismounted the machine, he was close to realizing why Yazoo loved it so much. It was his way of living, in a way, at least, like the Huns form Earth, who ate, slept, or even made love to their wives on their horses, rarely if never dismounting them.

This night, like all the others, they decided for their already established routine of having a couple of drinks at that bar that hosted the race. It was significant in a sense, that place, the core of all happenings between them. The place where Reno had heard about the race and where Yazoo had poisoned him. The only bar they frequented. The only safe place for delinquents like the silver haired man.

Yazoo felt a bit tired, and was leaning against one of the walls. Reno was returning from the restroom, when he saw him standing like this, in his leather coat, leaned against the wall, his melancholic green eyes dully observing the events around him—drunken whores and men, dancing, laughing, passing out. Neon lights played on his figure, making a dim rainbow linger and dance on his lithe frame. The dominant color in the room was dark blue, bordering with black, however.

It was a fantastic night with many people approaching him for an autograph or a quick sex in the restrooms. Yazoo ignored all of them. After the races, he felt emptier than he usually felt. All the energy would be drained from his body, his mind weary as well. The world was too slow.

The world was still too slow, even tonight, everybody swinging to the sounds of music, in lethargy. Yazoo was still leaned against the wall, thinking that heaviness in his chest had dramatically increased, yet, at the same time, he felt nothing. He attributed it to his duality, his former and present self. He had no particular opinion on that, except that he preferred to feel his present self more and in his free time derive conclusions from the experience. Tonight, he was feeling nauseated by the very fact that he was feeling so strange, so claustrophobic, beyond comparison with his previous experiences and moods.

Reno approached him, shouting in his ear, asking if he was alright. He gave him his nonchalant glare in return, never answering the question verbally. Without much thinking, in order to isolate all the loud surroundings full of junkies and retards, he extended his arm toward the redhead. His gloved hand reached the back of Reno's head, pulling him forcefully forward. Reno had only seconds to slow down, by pressing his palms against the wall.

Yazoo's full, but tastefully shaped lips pressed against his in a gentle fashion, and started moving slowly against Reno's thin, unmoving ones. That was one of the ways to mess with the Turk's head, Yazoo thought. It was fun enough to try. It was a good distraction from his unusually depressing thoughts. He couldn't quite say they were depressing, but they sure were annoying, and he wasn't the one who went for philosophy in the first place.

They remained in that position for a few seconds; Reno's eyes wide open, but he never dared to protest, seeing as how this would disturb the silver haired man, who, apparently, had some goals set in his mind. He didn't want to go back to the beginning, to distrustful and hostile Yazoo, so he returned the kiss. With horror did he remember the list he had made about things Yazoo was striving to accomplish in order to be a normal human being—a house, a job, a girlfriend. But there was one thing he failed to see—Yazoo's list differed in one detail—on his list, instead of 'a girlfriend' was 'a lover', no gender specified, apparently.

Yazoo soon released him, surprised how Reno managed to stay calm and not struggle and shrug him off. When he looked around, he saw that people started to leave the place, which indicated it was 5 a.m. already. He gently pushed his supervisor, moving past him toward the exit, with all grace he possessed.

* * *

They stepped into the dark morning. Silhouettes of people and buildings were becoming distinguishable now. The air was humid and unpleasantly cold. Luckily, there was no wind. Everything around them had the faint turquoise color, heavy clouds in the sky.

Yazoo sat on the back of the nearby bench, his elbows resting on his legs, as he watched Reno approach him. Nothing could deny the awkwardness of this moment. Reno was trying to act as natural as possible. His efforts, in Yazoo's eyes, seemed futile. Now when he'd done it, out of fun and boredom, he decided he liked it. Having licked his lips to pick up the remnants of Reno's taste on them, he decided that it was time for him to find a partner. Reno was the only person at his disposal now. He was the only one who was 'trained' to cope with him and somewhat understand, or claim to understand his goals. He would do, for now, the silver haired youth decided.

The effect of spending the whole night without a minute of sleep started to show on the redhead's face. It reminded him of his hangovers and encounters with such dreadful, cold mornings. He felt his soul was about to go through his mouth due to him not sleeping all night. He hadn't done that in a long time. His kiss with Yazoo didn't help matters, either.

He stood before him, his eyes half-open and somewhat swollen. Yazoo was feeling dull himself, but never allowed that to show on his flawless, impish face. He looked up at Reno, who was still bewildered.

"Let's go home, Yazoo." He said in a coarse voice, tiredness evident in it. But the remnant refused to cooperate. Still under the impression of his very first kiss, he contemplated his options. Reno looked so beautiful with the turquoise wasteland behind him, his vibrant red hair representing such a sharp contrast. He wasn't satisfied with the fact that the Turk was trying to ignore what had just happened. It appeared that playing pranks like these on him stopped working. Perhaps he should repeat the kiss, but this time as something serious? Perhaps he'd been serious in the bar, too?

He took one of Reno's hands and pulled him forward, and the redhead complied. Their lips met again, only this time the redhead closed his eyes, able to feel it better. Mornings like this always sharpened his senses. Mournful mornings, cold and with so many clouds in the sky. Yazoo slowly opened Reno's lips with his, with the help of his tongue. He slowly inserted it into his mouth, massaging Reno's tongue languidly, shifting his head slowly from right to left, in synchrony with his partner.

Reno was kissing back now, thinking that resisting was futile anyway. Perhaps Yazoo would be soon bored of this. He didn't like the comfortable feeling nesting in his stomach. It felt warm. Yazoo's kisses became more intense, coming at him in chains, with unnamed hunger to them, still innocent. The youth was exploring the territory and the boundaries of kissing. It occurred to Reno that this was the remnant's first time doing so. He let it be. Even though this conduct was unnatural, it was still a good practice, wasn't it? Lips same as all the others.

Yazoo was reluctant to let go, and every time Reno tried to pull away, impatiently like a child, the remnant reclaimed his lips, engaging them in a series of shallow kisses. His body was coated in warmth, his muscles tense, as he somewhat desperately tugged at Reno's sleeve. He felt it all the way to his toes, the sweet numbness. Reno touched his cheek and brought his face closer. He was aware that Reno did not intend to pull away now. Like a fish in the trap.

They resumed kissing for a long time, spiting the woeful morning that had brought them together. Yazoo broke the kiss, standing up from the bench, looking straight into Reno's eyes. To the Turk, it appeared that all his hopes of Yazoo getting bored of this disappeared; that look in Yazoo's eyes was carrying something, something like a contract. Something that both of them had signed and sealed. He wasn't quite sure if he minded it, but the feeling altogether, even if it was with a male, didn't seem unpleasant.

"You are aware of the fact that this goes way beyond my professional obligation to interact with you, yo?" Reno asked quietly.

"So does the friendship. And you being tacit about things in your reports." Replied Yazoo. That was a valid point, Reno concluded.

Yazoo appeared to be in some kind of a divine, ecstatic trance, yet everything on him looked unchanged. He was feeling drowsy, but not because he was lacking energy. To Reno, this suddenly looked so beautiful. So was Reno, in Yazoo's eyes. His lips, that is. Now that his mind had been clearer in the morning air, he felt it was so. He kissed him once more, before they went separate ways, to their respective homes.

* * *

tbc…?

**AN: I dunno if this was rushed, but I felt like writing it this way. Please make sure to review! **

**Errors will be corrected later. **


	10. Morsels of Pleasure

**AN:** Do enjoy this! :)

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 10: Morsels of Pleasure**

They were at the club again. It wasn't the race night, but they were there anyway. Again, it was Reno who'd insisted on their further hanging out. It had been a week since Yazoo made a move on the redhead, and, given the fact that he hadn't tried anything since, Reno put his guard down. He put it down just a bit, since he knew how Yazoo could be unpredictable at times. He just wanted to mess with me for a bit, and when he saw I was unfazed by it, he gave up; perhaps he's thinking of something more malicious to humiliate me or something, though I doubt it for some reason—his thoughts were going along those lines. He thought it was safe for now, and he couldn't back out right now, could he? He wanted this assignment, he got it, and now he had to put up with all the obstacles Yazoo put before him. Reno was a professional, and he thought that, for a change, he should start acting as one.

This all led to another set of presumptions and conclusions. Perhaps, Reno thought further, befriending Yazoo was not such a good move. Perhaps that approach didn't work on him. It'd given Yazoo a completely wrong idea of what Reno wanted to do with him. On the other hand, as already mentioned, maybe it had just been the means of confusing and infuriating the Turk. He didn't know what was smart to do next. Should he retain his friendly attitude, or simply try to act as an ordinary supervisor who didn't care about anything else than writing reports, black letters on the paper, later to be archived and used to Yazoo's (dis)advantage? Perhaps his job wasn't to be his, so to say, pedagogue; he shouldn't have been this much involved in the remnant's life.

However, despite all his contradicting thoughts, he kept trying to figure him out by being constantly with him, as a person who wanted to befriend him. They could be called friends of a sort, couldn't they? They went out together, watched movies at Reno's, sometimes had dinners together, sparred almost daily, and so on. As long as he made Yazoo move around or occupied with something (though the youth rarely liked or showed any interest in Reno's collection of movies), he didn't have to worry about the remnant's anxieties, he mused. In the end, he found no solution, and dropped the matter entirely. He was too lazy to think more than this, anyway.

They were sitting in the booth, somewhat secluded; they'd finished two or three drinks, nothing that could make them drunk; they both had to drive anyway. Yazoo was conscientious regarding that, at least (for now, Reno had to add). Other things, he would take them easily, for granted, exploring the limits, but never breaking the law. Living on the edge, that's what they called it; Reno knew such life very well. The silver haired beauty had to make up for boring days selling meat anyway, since his boss and Baishunpu had him do all the work. Yazoo wasn't naïve, however. He knew exactly what he was doing and why. He never seemed confused and indecisive. There must have been some goals behind such endurance on Yazoo's part that Reno couldn't understand.

Yazoo was sitting on his left side, absentmindedly playing with the olives that were set before them, to go with their drinks. Reno seemed to be pretty much immersed in his thoughts and didn't seem to be satisfied with what he had found out, the youth could tell. He was frowning, his look lost somewhere among the people who danced. Yet, their sweaty, snake-like bodies didn't make any impressions on him. Rather, he was looking _through_ them.

Yazoo still remembered vividly his very first kiss. Why it had to be Reno, a male, the man he never trusted, he had no clue nor did he particularly care. Lips were lips, not that they had gender, he mused. The experience hadn't been bad at all; he was very good, given the fact that it was his first time doing such things. Perhaps his voyeurism from the Lifestream had helped a bit, but there wasn't anything that could actually prove this. He hadn't been perfect, in fact. Sometimes he was aware of Reno gently correcting his route, if he could call it that, so that they could move in synchrony and not eat each other's faces, or cause the collision of their teeth. He knew at least that much—not to kiss with mouth wide open and move head-first with the tongue leading the way, extended all the way—he'd seen many disappointed girls who had been kissed in such a manner. He wasn't a horny teenage boy, though. He knew better.

Reno had been very patient with him; somewhere along the way he'd stopped 'tutoring' him and simply gave in, as he himself had. The very thought of letting go had seemed absurd and sickeningly sad, that Yazoo had had to engage him in series of kisses to show him he disapproved of them stopping. Reno had been very patient with him, as if he'd known Yazoo never kissed before. On the other hand, that was to be expected, when you think about his background. Time was something he'd lacked, and couldn't waste it on such things. But Reno never laughed at him or done anything equally stupid. He was very careful when it came to his tasks, Yazoo mused.

He hadn't been thinking about the kiss so much, but now he remembered. He had a desire to repeat the experience, but this time not because he'd thoroughly enjoyed it, but because, however he looked at it, Reno seemed to contemplate it. Yazoo had some great ideas now; he was bored anyway and needed to see something magnificently awful, like, Reno's face when in agony. The youth stopped playing with the olives, and took one between his fingers. He turned to his supervisor and touched his shoulder gently.

Reno startled from his thoughts (not that it showed on his face, though; he'd learned this technique from his protégé, but it didn't work always), and turned his head toward him.

"What is it, yo?" He asked. Yazoo said nothing, looking at him with large eyes that revealed nothing but primordial malice. He put his hand before his face, to reveal the olive he was holding between his fingers, and then he put it between his teeth. He slowly leaned closer to Reno, their faces barely apart, extending his neck to indicate that he wanted to share the olive. The Turk was perplexed and frowned, seeing as how he'd been wrong, thinking Yazoo had dropped the idea. But, if this was Yazoo's way of intimidating him, of trying to determine how far he could go and if he was afraid of the challenge, it was one rather stupid way, for Reno was there to prove he was wrong. He wasn't afraid of challenges of any kind. His typical way of thinking for a male, he later realized, made him do exactly the opposite. He should have declined.

He moved forward, skillfully taking the other half of the olive between his teeth, brushing Yazoo's lips in the process. He carefully split the olive with his teeth, thus initiating the kiss, a deep and lazy one, while trying to chew the given morsel at the same time. It proved to be a rather interesting experience in Yazoo's view, much more because Reno had taken the bait yet again. The remnant's hand was blindly looking for another olive and the slender fingers detected it soon after. He brought it to his lips again, showing Reno he wanted more. Their lips engaged in yet another kiss, deeper, louder (over the sound of the music, in Yazoo's ears). Reno's hand wasn't hesitant at all when it found its way into the silver locks, bringing the remnant closer and deepening the kiss.

Completely absorbed in the kiss, Yazoo pressed him further; his tongue going all the way to Reno's throat, and the Turk felt he was about to choke, but the feeling wasn't unpleasant; he knew he wouldn't, as long as he did the same to Yazoo. The remnant's hand wandered up and down his thigh, then moved absently to his neck, then behind his ear, fingers disappearing in the thick red hair. Yazoo seemed to be unaware of what he was doing; he was too much enraptured in it all.

Reno, being less enraptured and seeing as to where this all would go, tried to break the kiss, but Yazoo wouldn't let him. Not until his dexterous fingers reached for another olive anyway. He placed it between his teeth again, and the Turk found he had enough of this game. It had become so intoxicating it contradicted all his principles. However, he found an interesting thing that could distract Yazoo and make him forget about it, or, on the other hand, encourage his competitive spirit…Either way, there were too many options and Reno didn't have time to think so much about them.

With practiced ease, his tongue encircled Yazoo's olive and it was taken from him, ending up in Reno's mouth. He started to chew, looking at his puzzled companion a bit conceitedly. Part of his mind wanted to know Yazoo's next move. The silver haired man took another one stubbornly, curious what Reno would do next. Reno did the same. Yazoo put yet another one, and then another one, until the succession of olives became too long and the game too boring.

When Yazoo placed the sixth olive, Reno was up for some revenge—a brief recollection of what Yazoo had done to him gave him the idea—this should be a suitable retribution, he thought. With a swift move of his index finger, he shoved the fruit that was between Yazoo's teeth in his mouth, and it flew right into his respiratory tract. He began to cough, and soon enough spitted the olive out with much effort.

It hurt so much, tears started streaming down his face—he wasn't crying, it was the reaction to choking and coughing; he hadn't the oxygen—and Reno, having realized his mistake, still felt glad for it. He patted Yazoo's back with care, even though there was no need for such action. He wondered how Yazoo would return the blow.

When the remnant recovered from all that coughing and wiped his tears, he took the glass of water and drank a bit. Then he looked at the redhead. So he thought it was funny? Still, he couldn't blame him, it was fair enough, given the fact what _he_'d done to him in the past months. Little did Reno know the way he was to be punished for this. The silver haired youth threw his head back against the back of his seat, broke the glass, and brought one shard to his mouth. He looked at Reno sideways, and said,

"Do it properly this time." and placed the shard between his teeth, his tongue moving over the edge, risking to be cut. The redhead never imagined Yazoo would do something like this. But then again, it was _Yazoo_, so everything was possible. He reached to take the shard from between his teeth, but Yazoo managed to say, over the shard, "No hands allowed."

What else could he do but lean over the remnant and gently take it with his own teeth. He did it breathlessly, hoping that Yazoo wouldn't break it and keep the half of it in his mouth or something equally stupid and dangerous. The remnant released it, slowly, and the redhead threw it immediately.

"This is sick, yo!" He protested. Yazoo's face looked indifferent. He liked their little game and now Reno decided to stop it. What was wrong playing with olives and shards of broken glass occasionally? He felt slightly irritated and had nothing to say to Reno's statement. The place was hot and stuffy and he wanted to leave. It was getting boring yet again; how terrible it felt, the feeling of rejection.

* * *

When it was their time to go, they were surprised to see the downpour. It was around four in the morning and no sign that the rain would stop. Yazoo didn't even blink; he let the cold, heavy raindrops soak him in the matter of seconds. Reno didn't try to stop him; he knew it would be futile. He had learned by now that it was in Yazoo's nature to do such unconventional things, but perhaps not because he was getting used to be human, but rather because he had strange habits and urges. On the other hand, he wasn't sure if he was right; very often it seemed impossible to understand Yazoo's actions and reasoning behind them.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he followed the silver haired man, letting himself be soaked to bone and crazy enough not to care about it. His thoughts were constantly on the man that was sitting now on the back of that bench they were now so familiar with, with his ears protruding from his long wet hair. He sat beside him, letting the silence take over as he wondered about everything. Kissing with Yazoo wasn't bad at all, but it made him think about his own sexuality. If he wasn't getting aroused, but still liked it, was he bisexual or just curious? Why was he letting Yazoo have his way? He could have easily shrugged him off. However, by doing that, he would create some tension between them, just now when he'd made some sort of equilibrium, some established routine that seemed to work more or less well.

He looked at the sky, wondering why the rain was so cold. The very thought seemed absurd, since you could rarely tell which season it was.

"It was supposed to be a drizzle, and a warm one. You can't tell which is when anymore," he muttered and chuckled. Yazoo turned to look at him, releasing a quiet 'hm?', demanding further explaining. "It's just that many things have happened, that's all." Reno replied. He just remembered that Yazoo never knew what the seasons were, having been only more than three years in existence. "First ShinRa and its exploitation of Mako, then friggin' Jenova falls from the sky, and then Sephiroth summons a meteor. We don't have seasons anymore because of that."

Yazoo winced a bit at the mentioning of his…of Jenova, tried to say something in her defense, only to find there was no need to defend something that had been a fake ideal. Reno noticed this, letting the silence fall upon them once again. Sitting here like this, letting himself to be drenched and letting the chill get to the very bone made him sorrowful. Looking at Yazoo, who was indifferent to everything, who was waiting patiently for something, made him pity the young man.

'So many different experiences in such a short period of time', the redhead thought, sighing. 'Such a hectic life. He never sits to think about it. He needs to catch up with young people like the two of us. Must be very hard. He must be confused, doing things like this to me.' But then again, Yazoo never seemed to be indecisive or confused. 'His situation with Kadaj and Loz isn't helping matters, either.' He further analyzed, wondering if Yazoo was indeed worried. Maybe he was just good at hiding things. On the other hand…

"It's been like this for years. I can't remember clearly anymore, how the proper spring looked like. Or summer, for that matter." He said. It appeared to him that some heavy burden was on Yazoo's shoulders, even though that might not be the case either. He patted his leather-clad back, as if he was trying to lift that burden. "You really are strong, yo." He said quietly.

Yazoo looked at him, not understanding his train of thought. Could it be that Reno was trying to read between the lines again, and ended up nowhere? Could it be that he interpreted this as being an act of a sorrowful, desperate man, sitting in the rain like this? He never particularly cared; rain was soothing, it was cooling his skin down, it smelled better than his backyard anyway. Nothing special about it.

A bony hand found its way to his. It was the first time that he wasn't wearing the gloves, so the bare skin met the bare skin. Reno's hands were warm against his cold, wet ones. But they, too, were getting wet now. A small caress, a slight grip of his fingers. The Turk brought his face closer to his, their noses touching. "We should be heading home, yo! You'll catch a cold." He whispered. Yazoo could barely hear him over the rain. Then the Turk placed his lips on his cold ones. "Your body is so cold." He complained, but soon covered Yazoo's lips with his again.

The remnant didn't waste any time, taking the hint, his unoccupied hand was soon in Reno's red locks; he pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, their tongues dancing around each other slowly, for a long time. Their kiss would become shallow only when their heads were shifting from one side to another, deepening again when the transition was over. When he slowly came to his senses, Yazoo realized Reno was shivering from cold. He broke the kiss slowly, their faces still close. "I bet _you_ will be the one to develop pneumonia." He said teasingly. "You'd better call your buddy and tell him to make you a nice, warm soup." He got up, not lacking grace, as expected.

"Fuck you, yo!" Reno shouted after him, swearing he would never do him favors, like comforting him, which he'd just done. But…did Yazoo really need comforting, or was it just in his head? A suitable justification for the kiss? When he thought better, he could swear Yazoo was a devil. He made kissing with a man pleasant. It was proof enough for him. And he got it really bad; Yazoo managed to defeat him again. He thought he was just doing him favors, but it appeared that he was just giving in. He'd been tricked. Only that and nothing more.

* * *

**TBC…? **

**All the errors will be corrected later. I hope you liked it!**

**Please leave a comment! :) **


	11. The Road Not Taken

**AN:** I'm super pissed and frustrated. People at my college are crazy, some friends became too much for me, practically can't stand them…So what am I doing here? Escaping this harsh, imagination deprived reality and am about to announce some great news to you, guys!

The rating goes up from T to **M**! :) Enjoy my fic!

**Disclaimer:** The Road Not Taken (had it on my exam today), of course, doesn't belong to me!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 11: The Road Not Taken**

_T__WO__ roads diverged in a yellow wood, /And sorry I could not travel both/ And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could /To where it bent in the undergrowth_

_Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken_

It was as if he'd been traveling through time; it was a warm afternoon, the room almost golden from the cheerful sunrays that played with shadows on the wall. He felt almost like a teenager, his cheeks had the soft pink color and he was daydreaming the entire morning. He'd slept well the day before, happy he hadn't caught a cold despite being in the freezing rain for almost an hour-or could it be two hours, or just ten minutes, he wasn't sure- everything happened so fast and now he was replaying it in his mind.

He never bothered to define it, spoiling the moment was the last thing he wanted, especially when something exquisite like this was happening to him. When there were no missions, when there was nothing to do, another layer of his person could be discovered. He had long ago noticed how, despite being twenty-three he felt like he was fifty: all secrets and lies were around him, hypocrites and uneducated people who had somehow made it to the top; everything was based on stereotypes and clichés and there was nothing that could change this. The world lost its colors but the disasters that had taken place had nothing to do with this. Sure, they'd made their contribution, but the people had already been rotten, society as society spiritually empty, minds shallow, and sense of values distorted. Despite the grayness of the world, it was still worth living, but he hadn't the vitality necessary for it, no emotional fulfillment. Up until now, nothing could set him in motion except for battle, and now, Yazoo, in his twisted and sick way had touched his tired, battered soul ever so gently, and made him react to the world. His indifference temporarily disappeared.

For the first time after so long, everything seemed to fit perfectly in his daily routine. He lazily stretched and headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast. He knew he shouldn't be too relaxed around Yazoo and that he was just in good humor today thanks to the remnant. Nothing special, nothing to think about. Why analyzing it? He was humming a tune while making some French toast for him and Rude, thinking about how delicious it would be. He was a simple guy, after all, and never actually thought about cause and consequence, except when on duty. Life had always gone so smoothly for him, he had to take care of himself, so he never felt disappointed, just tired, awfully tired of the fake world and lack of innovation. It was time to revive this wasteland, he thought. Whatever it was—his youth, Midgar, the entire planet, other people—it didn't matter. When he looked outside, while munching at his toast, he saw the yellow sky and raindrops still lingering in the air. Everything seemed possible; trying something new, be it bungee jumping or kissing a guy—it made no difference, in his view. Some invisible force kept him in motion all morning, and he knew what it was—longing to see Yazoo again. He was looking forward to it.

Now, don't make a big deal out of it. Reno was down-to-earth kind of a guy; he didn't made a fuss about the kiss. It felt good; it cheered him up. Nothing revolutionary had taken place; it didn't mean that his life would turn for better in the future; it had little significance.

* * *

Yazoo was aware of Reno's immune system. The redhead was a very complex person, even though it didn't seem so. Just looking at his face was enough; the remnant had drawn several conclusions about him; he, too, had done the math.

Firstly, last night had made Reno less confused and he contemplated less for sure-it had been he who initiated dancing of their tongues. Reno was probably more prepared now, and Yazoo decided it was enough of pranks and cheap tricks, since they were becoming ineffective. It was enough for him to be amused by the redhead, if just a little. His company was more pleasant than usual, much more because he hadn't talked but moved his lips in a different fashion-against his, slowly, deeply, exotically.

Perhaps it was just the usual addiction of ones who had recently experienced their very first kiss. On the other hand, Yazoo would never indulge in physical pleasures only. One of his stronger points was his wit. He was a skillful tactician after all. Reno was best when he spoke little, was Yazoo's conclusion.

Secondly, Yazoo had seen some contradicting layers of his supervisor's personality. Namely, it was evident that Reno was conscientious—his rank was the proof enough—but he appeared to be lazy as well, a king of slackers, a king of ones that didn't follow the rules—their kissing was something he was sure Rufus had never ordered him to do. Their relationship now was too personal for it to be called professional, yet they praised Reno as the best professional ever. He hadn't made the fuss about 'sexual harassment' on Yazoo's part; rather, he'd gone along with it, indulged, thought about it and had been very considerate and kind.

His face was the face of a self-confident young assassin, ruthless, careless, and emotionless, yet so bright; a face of an adult who was serious, but not evil and sadistic (when he was in the mood not to be. Oh, yes, he could be a nasty sadist when he wanted). He appeared to Yazoo as an overgrown orphan, in his semi-elegant clothes, like an abandoned puppy that had been left to take care of himself. He was doing well, he could tell. Half serious—you could never put a finger on what he actually was, such a strange medley of characteristics—and insolent, yet endlessly obedient before Rufus. You could define him as a hypocrite, but it wouldn't be it. You could say he was reliable yet unreliable. You could say he didn't exist, since he was but he wasn't in all possible senses, yet he was there. A walking contradiction. A man Yazoo never trusted yet was drawn to him somehow.

* * *

The walking contradiction entered the shop that evening and announced:

"I'm taking you for a ride, yo!" He said seriously. The magic from this morning had disappeared and his head was again clear. Today he wanted to kill two birds with one stone. There was laptop in his car and he wanted to write his monthly report about Yazoo as they drove in the unknown direction. They would spar afterwards, and then go separate ways. It was high time he took responsibility for his actions and acted seriously. There stood before him one clear road of professionalism, and he knew he would walk down it.

"You are forgetting that I have work today." Yazoo said calmly, tilting his head to one side, looking at him with those scrutinizing, insane eyes.

"It's almost six o'clock, why don't you ask Baishunpu to take over?" Reno protested. It was a nice day outside, and he wanted to inhale the smell of the warm asphalt in the dusk, to see the dust settle on it slowly, to ride by the kids that were playing outside and hear their carefree laughter. Everything resembled a pleasant summer evening. "Hurry up, yo!"

"Why are you so sure I would follow?" Yazoo asked in his usual singsong voice. "Why so impatient?"

"Because I say so and I want to get this over with, so I could go home and do something that is really productive." Reno said calmly. "I'm fed up with horsing around with you. "

"But I thought I was your major task. Was I wrong?" Yazoo tilted his head to another side. "Or could it be that you are scared of something?"

"You live in a false belief that everything revolves around you is all. I have life, you know." Reno said more quietly.

"Ah, I see." Yazoo said indifferently.

"So?" Reno fidgeted. Yazoo was still behind the counter, with his cap and apron on. He ignored the redhead completely. Reno patted his foot nervously against the floor. When he saw that Yazoo did nothing to obey him, he just went with the flow, as usual—his last and most stupid resort—and waited until Yazoo closed the store. "Will you go with me now, you damn remnant?" He asked roughly.

"Well, I have no other choice, do I?" Yazoo elegantly shrugged, now clothed in his leather garments by default. "Shachou was the one who appointed you my guardian, after all." They went to Reno's car.

To Yazoo's surprise, they drove around Midgar and Edge for quite a while, while Reno was typing something on his laptop with one hand and driving with another, asking Yazoo every now and then about his day. So this was how Reno had chosen to cope with the new situation, but he couldn't blame him. Denial was one of the most powerful weapons. Still, he couldn't agree with Reno's new method. It was wrong altogether. Firstly, he drove only with one hand. That was against law, as far as he knew. But it didn't matter so much as the fact that they lost their natural way of communicating. Or rather, their version of normal communication.

The thing Reno was doing now was a disaster. Yazoo waited until the redhead parked and placed the laptop in his lap, to put some finishing lines to his report, to polish it or whatever, it didn't matter. The remnant didn't like where this was going, so he decided to be a bit abrupt. He took the laptop from Reno and tossed it on the backseat (too bad it didn't break, he thought), and took Reno by surprise. His slender legs, dressed in dark pants with black belts around his thighs, straddled him and he forced a deep kiss on Reno. Then he dismounted him and got back to his seat, pulling Reno by his white shirt. He fell on top of Yazoo, kissing back, clumsily at first, until he found balance and made the kiss steadier.

When he came to, he pulled away from Yazoo, aware of what they were doing. Yazoo grabbed him again and they struggled a bit, but he ended up in his embrace again, his lips attacked again. Yazoo was kissing him with all his might, trying to tell him that they couldn't be so formal, that it was wrong to do so because Reno couldn't decide it on his own. Yazoo had never ordered him to. His property had been disobedient.

It was just a rough making out and neither truly enjoyed it; their teeth collided, lips were badly bruised, tongues bitten, a strand of red hair remained in Yazoo's hand when he pulled at it. Reno was raving mad when Yazoo finally let go of him, snorted, and took him home.

* * *

Now Yazoo was positive that Reno was not so immune and that he was defending himself and his sobriety. He was trapped in a trap Yazoo wasn't even aware of setting. The events went in a completely different direction than he expected, but he had nothing against them. In the following days, they kept their usual routine—sparring, spending some time together drinking tea and having breakfast in small dirty coffee shops, but in silence this time.

He would wait for Reno wherever they said they would meet, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Sometimes they would kiss. Most of the time they didn't, however, except when they would end up in some dark place, or when they went to that bar. Two weeks passed in such fashion.

* * *

Everything went blank and then Reno became aware that he was shoved against the wall in the bathroom stall of their nightclub, with yellowish dirty tiles, and then he remembered—just a second ago, Yazoo'd entered and shoved him inside. At first, he thought he was holding a gun, but dropped the idea entirely. Yazoo's hand was empty, pressed against his chest and pushed him forcefully inside. His breathing was heavy, his eyelids almost closed, as he caressed his face…or rather, rubbing the palm against his face, eyes fixed on his thin, trembling lips. Reno gasped.

The remnant's insane eyes scrutinized his body, finally stopping at his neck and collarbone. Hungry lips and teeth landed on the sensitive skin. Yazoo inhaled the scent of a shower gel that lingered on his skin, mixing with the smell of shampoo, deeply, slowly; his eyelids fluttering in ecstasy. He nipped at his neck, gently. Then he replaced his teeth and lips with his tongue, sticking it out entirely, from the root of his neck, slowly, gracefully, along it, reaching to the jaw line, and finally to Reno's ear. He bit at it gently and then stepped back to look at him.

Reno was still in shock, unable to move. He decided he liked this, placing his arm around Yazoo and pulling him closer. The remnant lifted one leg and placed his foot on the toilet, in order to be closer to him. He wanted to see how Reno would react to his sexual harassment, yet he got absorbed in the act, too, feeling a bit aroused.

They started kissing eagerly, almost violently, pulling their bodies closer, releasing slight grunts every now and then. The entire place looked pathetic and like the source of all sorrow, with its yellow tiles and green stalls, broken sinks and mirrors. The yellow light bulbs didn't make things better; the place was a blazing despair, and Reno didn't mind, for some reason, being absorbed by Yazoo. His warmth was soothing, his eyes soft and reflecting lunacy.

In the heat of the moment, he pulled Yazoo by his hair so hard he was sure it hurt terribly but he didn't care. Yazoo was forced to look at the ceiling full of black pipes and mushrooms that formed there due to humidity. Reno's caresses were harsh, in fact, his teeth sharp and piercing his skin, as if wanting to penetrate his very soul and take away all the warmth. The remnant felt feverish all of a sudden, his cheeks were burning with fire, yet he was as pale as death. Reno, on the other hand, was as red as a tomato.

Eventually the spell was broken when they realized they were in a half aroused state. Both decided they didn't like how the things were developing, and decided to stop. Reno didn't even look at Yazoo, who stepped back. He only passed next to him and exited the bathroom. He was embarrassed, and even though he wanted to continue, perhaps to go to the very end and be swallowed by the ninth circle of Hell, he stopped. It was easy to stop at that point, and he thanked God for it. Yazoo's eyes were fixed on him as he was exiting, threatening, furious, cold, and unforgiving. Yet he understood him all too well; he himself wasn't fond of the idea of them continuing.

Reno was back to his old route again. Perhaps it was better that way, Yazoo mused. These past few weeks seemed like dating. He snorted at the thought. Reno wasn't for such things, and neither was he. Two roads had been before Reno. He hadn't taken the one Yazoo wanted him to, however. Just when he was starting to like their game.

* * *

**AN:** In the next chapter is the long awaited…something something *wink wink* Things are getting hotter and hotter, our characters tenser and tenser…Please review if you want this continued.

All errors, as usual, will be corrected later.


	12. A Game of Risk

**AN:** It has been almost two months since I updated this. To be frank, it was because I expected more feedback, but what the heck. Another reason is that I had so many things to regarding college and I still have, but I promised 'long awaited something something' and here I am, keeping my promise. :)

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. It is a bit long, but that's just a nice lead-in to something good, good, good… :) On your part, feel free to read and review.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own T. S. Eliot's 'Wasteland'

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 12: A Game of Risk**1

He knew that those things he considered games were insignificant and stupid, and that they may as well not work on the redhead. The Turk had become more wary around him, almost completely dropping the concept of their becoming friends. In his eyes, Yazoo mused, it had just been an experiment. Nothing would come out of it now that the redhead had aborted it. Perhaps it was better to leave it this way, the remnant thought. On the other hand, though, he had his eyes set on his prey; he had always known what he wanted and carefully chosen paths leading straight to it. First time he had failed, all thanks to Reno, many months ago. Reno didn't want to play now, though a different game of merging. His comrades and Jenova had been long forgotten; he thought of as another means of merging, if you could call it so.

He lay down on his bed, with his arms behind his head. Such a wild creature, he thought about the Turk, with those strangely shaped eyes, so exotic and full of things one couldn't decipher in decades. Reno's eyes were full of mischief, yet he somehow managed to keep himself in check. He was Yazoo's walking contradiction; his thick burning hair, and a bit of a collarbone not concealed by his white shirt were some details Yazoo repeatedly summoned before his eyes, his lips crooked in an awkward but not ugly smirk. Such sincere eyes, yet secretive. His constant smile and exaggerated gestures when he was offended.

Sometimes Reno had a strong sense of justice, especially when dealing with Cloud. Tifa had told him once how he'd reprimanded Cloud for his cowardice, when he and the other two remnants had kidnapped Denzel and Marlene. So many contradicting data, yet Yazoo thought he managed to make a general picture of his supervisor—he was just and was something other people would categorize as a 'good and honest man', who could also cause you great inconvenience if you ever found yourself in his way. He was a cold-hearted assassin, one shouldn't forget that. In addition, he had a high rank in ShinRa Corporation. You could never distinguish between his good and bad traits, apparently.

Slowly but surely Yazoo was getting aroused by carefully selecting images and scenes from his memories—Reno's sharp remarks, his clumsy self, his agile self, their fights, their sparring, texture of his bones, flesh and skin, his contradicting behavior- sometimes impulsive, sometimes perfectly reasonable- the last he heard of his voice, and the latest events with sexual connotation. Slowly, making gradation of events, from most innocent ones to ones desperate and erotic, he unzipped his pants and started stroking himself. He rarely masturbated, but he had to admit that ever since he first started, he found it refreshing and wicked. He worked himself to orgasm, gasping only when he reached it, that twisted smirk of satisfaction never leaving his features.

As he was coming, he contemplated immediately going to Reno, having sex with him, whatever that could make them close. He wanted to feel the solid matter, i.e. his body, its warmth and strength; with confidence of someone experienced, which he wasn't, was he certain he could make him contented, could drive him insane and madly in love. The purpose of such result didn't matter to Yazoo, as far as he got to have some fun. He knew that nobody could envy them on the situation they were in, however. It could cause many problems for both of them should they be discovered. But he didn't care. He liked it complicated. He liked it unbearable. He wanted to see how long it would last. Besides, it was boring, working at this butchery. Blood didn't give him the thrill anymore. Not in the amount he wanted to, anyway.

There was this thing he didn't like about masturbation. It left him with a dark void in his chest; it drained his energy to live. He wasn't embarrassed by what he had done, but some uneasiness would always find its way into him. It was natural to feel that way, his instincts told him; reality would strike you hard, you'd get tired of all the emotions you're carrying within. Yazoo curled up in a ball, covered himself with a blanket, and stared at the empty space before him, lulling himself to sleep.

* * *

Reno was back to his old self. Yazoo always knew there was something else to him, and he finally witnessed the redhead's professionalism. It appeared in the shape of Reno's three underlings. They had been ordered to follow every Yazoo's step and write those tiring reports. They would, in the end, merge those three into one. Reno would later skim through it, add something of his own, and send it to Rufus Shinra. Yazoo was introduced with the procedure.

He liked to see the young rookies flinch whenever he sent them his distorted gaze, or smirked at them in disdain. Apparently, Reno had a great amount of trust in them and believed that this experience would be good for them. Either way, he didn't care. They were young and inexperienced and stood no chance against him. He could easily slice their throats without his wonderful pets, or his gun-blade, just to see Reno's infuriated face. He could do something so monstrous, but he knew that Reno wouldn't care. He was just testing him, and exposing those poor lambs to immediate danger represented no worry for him. Reno could be ruthless like that. Yazoo licked his lips whenever he thought of the redhead's wicked side.

It was Saturday, so he finished earlier than usual. It was three o'clock and he thought he could take a walk, just to see how those three would react, how they would follow him, and which conclusions they would draw. It was funny, in a way, to see them carry their communicators, staring at him from their estimate of a safe distance, all frightened like chickens, yet their eyes were so insolent. It amused him a bit, but soon, like everything else, they became boring.

The day was, as usual, dark, air humid, streets wet from rain. It had stopped just a few minutes ago. Careful not to be seen by the people who were still unaware of his existence, especially parents of the children he had kidnapped (he didn't want them troubling him just yet, even though a good fight or two, a few severed limbs were very enticing), he strolled in the shadows of buildings in construction, running his gloved hand along their smooth walls, occasionally throwing glances at the overcast sky. It was so easy for him to merge in gray.

The scent of earth after rain filled his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, feeling a bit dizzy and aroused; there was something highly erotic in small particles of melancholy that floated in the air. The sound of his combat boots hitting against the concrete surface ceaselessly drummed in his ears, until he stopped before the back entrance of his Nii-san' house.

Devilishly, he smirked at the mice that were hiding behind the pillars of the surrounding buildings, their muscles tense as they held their weapons tight to their chests, holding their breaths. So pitiful, Yazoo decided. He was already disinterested in torturing them physically, and mental games were only exciting if he played them with Reno. The door opened and he gracefully turned to see who would exit.

A pregnant brunette was laboring over the pile of some sort of boxes in her arms. She was desperately trying to keep the balance, but she tripped while descending the short flight of stairs, dropping all of the boxes on the wet ground. Luckily, she didn't fall herself. Yazoo observed her from the shadows, debating whether he should come and help her or not. But before he could decide (the decision wasn't that hard to make; he, in fact, wanted to turn around and go someplace else, somewhere where he didn't have to watch clumsy people trip, someplace where he could enjoy his solitude to the fullest), Tifa sighed in exasperation, her hands on her hips, stretched her neck a bit, and spotted him.

"Yazoo? Is that you?" she asked softly. Over the time, she had gotten a bit closer to him, although reasonably wary of him. She thought that Reno had everything under control, and wished Cloud could stop being hostile toward him. That was what she had told Yazoo once, when they'd visited. Reno had made him visit that place on many occasions. He concluded that her opinion about Reno was relatively positive. She deemed him a good person. So, she probably inferred, if he brought Yazoo to Seventh Heaven, the remnant was comparatively harmless.

But now she was about to give birth to her kid. Her skills must have degraded to some degree, so she should be extra cautious, Yazoo mused. Not that he was in the mood to do anything bad to her. Nii-san wouldn't like that. The blond young man who always frowned upon him visiting them. Marlene and Denzel were always hiding behind him, and staring at Yazoo with fear. It was subsiding these days, though.

Seeing as how he couldn't get out of the situation now, he stepped from the shadows, but remained silent. That was all he was willing to do, to let her recognize him, his straight, slender figure standing there, his eyes and face expressionless yet ominous.

"Could you help me with those board games, please?" she asked him politely, making effort to smile at him. It was a nice try, though, and she was earnestly trying to be friendly.

He nodded his head slightly, and went forward, crouched to pick up the almost soaking boxes. He felt her presence behind his back, her fingers crossed behind her back.

"Um…lucky there is duct tape around them so they didn't spill." She said. "We rarely play these, so I thought, maybe we could, one of these days….It appears to be cloudy, though."

"So why don't you just play inside?" he asked, even though he wasn't interested. He was curious to know whether his Nii-san would be there. It felt so lonely sometimes, without his kinsmen…if he even had them.

"Ah," Tifa started. Yazoo straightened up, waiting for her to tell him where to take those boxes. "I thought we could all gather in the church, among those flowers and all…" she chuckled, her big brown eyes looking straight into his cold, green ones, openly and warmly offering friendship. She so easily forgets and forgives, he thought. What if she sees Loz? What then? "So, could you help me carry these to the church?"

He nodded slightly, and they headed in the direction where the church was, side by side. "You can join us if you want" Tifa thoughtfully added.

"Will Nii-san be there?" he inquired.

"I think he should come in an hour or so. He's busy at the moment." Yazoo took this as yes, and offered his usual 'hn'.

* * *

Not even a few minutes passed after they had arrived when Barrett and the kids entered the church carrying various snacks and drinks in several bags. Barrett eyed him suspiciously, but Tifa reassured him with her ever so warm chestnut eyes. They decided they would play Monopoly, so Monopoly it was. They explained him the rules and they started the game.

The church wasn't that bad a place as Loz had described it, nor did the flowers stink. Yazoo liked the combination of humidity in air and vegetation, since such fragrance never ceased to caress his senses. It felt like reading T. S. Eliot's poetry, the feeling of despair never leaving his bones. His 'Wasteland' and hyacinth garden mentioned in it…

_'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;_

'_They called me the hyacinth girl.' _

—_Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, _

_Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not_

_Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither _

_Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,_

_Looking into the heart of light, the silence.' _

...if he remembered correctly, it was an association with grief and love, plainly said. He felt it would be nice if he could make such a garden in this place. It would be a tribute to something he harbored for several weeks. It was an entire process, actually, of him becoming like this. His wicked side always prevailed, but it changed the form.

* * *

It wasn't long before Cloud arrived, immediately frowning when seeing Yazoo. Marlene and Denzel were playing Monopoly with Tifa, Barrett and him. It was a strange sight to behold, but he figured, if Barrett was there, everything would be fine, even though he didn't know how strong Yazoo was now, when he was a mere human. That wasn't the reason to put his guard down, of course.

Nii-san was very beautiful, with his spiky blond hair and very intense blue eyes, that way due to exposure to mako. However, that scowl on his face made him older than he actually was. He nodded in general direction, greeting them all, refraining to ask why the remnant was there. Marlene and Denzel stood up and ran toward him, wrapping their small arms around his lean waist. Soon after, the little ones abandoned the game and went to play hide and seek with Cloud instead.

* * *

Not long after, Reno burst into the church, very furious. Yazoo observed him calmly, thinking how silly his rookies had been, how foolishly scared that he would do something to Tifa and the rest.

The Turk stopped in his tracks, bewildered. Yazoo was playing Monopoly with them, as if he were a normal individual. On the other hand, there was no evident reason for him not to be normal now. There was something odd in his persona, though, his speech pattern, that crazy look in his eyes, his movements. He wanted to shout, to ask what he was doing there, but that would cause suspicion among others, since he'd brought Yazoo to Seventh Heaven so many times, claiming he was harmless. It was too late to do anything else but sit beside him and observe the game.

Yazoo's new 'friends' looked disinterestedly in his direction, as if saying 'oh, it's just you', and turned to their game. Tifa was winning. He sat beside them, wordlessly, and observed the game. Yazoo's cyan eyes fixed him with an enamored look. It lasted only for a second and transfixed him like a really, really sharp razor. The truth was, he wasn't doing things right. Nothing he had done recently had he done for the well-being of ShinRa Company but for his own well-being.

* * *

The group soon decided to play something else, namely, Risk. As expected of Yazoo, there was something devious in his features, as he conquered one country after another, ending up conquering the world with delighted and conceited smirk on his face. Reno tapped his shoulder, whispering in his ear that it was just a game and that he shouldn't be so worked up about it. But Yazoo wasn't enchanted at all. He was just playing the game by their rules, under Reno's scrutiny. He never intended to impress anyone by his skills as a tactician, especially now when those tactics couldn't serve him for other purposes. When it came to emotions, Yazoo was as smart as an ameba.

"What is it, Cloud? Sephiroth didn't fuck you the way you wanted?" it was a usual remark Reno uttered every now and then, much to the dismay of others. It never served its purpose; it was supposed to be a joke of some kind, a tasteless attempt at comic relief, since the atmosphere tended to be tense between him and Cloud. It never helped matters; moreover, it served as a mockery. Reno liked to drop hints at Sephiroth's and Cloud's potential sexual relationship, representing himself as a 'right and healthy male, which Cloud isn't'. He soon bit his tongue, when he recalled who was sitting next to him and the irony behind their conduct.

Little did he expect that the blond would flinch at this, but not in the way the redhead was accustomed to—in rage—he blushed instead, and averted his gaze. Reno found it amusing, and snorted almost inaudibly. Perhaps Sephiroth was alive as well? Perhaps something indeed had happened, or Cloud was contemplating it. Either way, this announced Reno's triumph for his remark proved to be useful.

The remnant observed all of this from the corner of his eye, wondering if Kadaj had found Nii-san. If so, how had they greeted each other? If not, when the encounter would happen. He opted for the latter, because he was certain Cloud would give himself away one way or another.

His train of thought was interrupted by the constant noise in the background. It wasn't actually a noise, but it made him irritated nevertheless. Tifa and Reno were bickering now, quietly. She was reprimanding him for talking profanity in front of the children, and added that this wasn't his first time doing so. He pointed out that the children were sleeping; and true—Marlene's head rested in Barrett's lap, and Denzel was secluded by the flowers that surrounded his sleeping form. They somehow included Cloud in their conversation, who was desperately trying to change the subject.

A few seconds later they were talking about various strategies in battle, and he and Reno assumed, more or less, the role of the audience. Yazoo looked at him again, with enamored look and leaned closer, brushing the tip of Reno's nose with his own. The redhead held his breath as he felt Yazoo's on his face. As if in the world of their own, in an invisible bubble did they feel, as the other three adults were engrossed in a fierce discussion (Tifa and Barrett being louder, and Cloud interjecting here and there. He preferred listening to talking). Yazoo brushed his lips against Reno's, as if saying 'Let's go home', even though they didn't live together nor did they plan to.

The bored expression on Yazoo's face told him that it wasn't far from the truth, it just needed slight paraphrasing. Yazoo's body said: "Let's get out of here!" And so, by a tacit agreement, they both stood up and excused themselves.

* * *

As if possessed, Reno followed his protégé to the dilapidated building in which he lived. Yazoo's seductive eyes invited him inside and he didn't object, although a greater part of him disagreed with this decision. Yazoo's arms longingly reached for him, teasing his lower lip tenderly, almost lovingly, pushing him forward until Reno sat on the neatly made bed.

This was where he wanted him. Perhaps a part of him only wanted to crush him this way, by making him do what he had probably sworn he wouldn't; to rub it in his face, his failure as a Turk, as a person. Perhaps a part of him admired his strong temperament which, in turn decided to succumb to his dirty mind tricks. He straddled the redhead and locked his lips in a deep, demanding kiss, and as it became fiercer and more intense, his hips started rocking backward and forward.

Reno embraced him, running his calloused palms along his strong back, tracing every vertebra, the plane of smooth skin unlike any woman's. His hands wandered up and down, underneath his black turtleneck which Yazoo threw off carelessly a few seconds after, his mind too hot and too clouded to think about anything else.

It was Reno before him, his fox like eyes staring at him, his irises blue, when he took a better look. He had thought they were green. He ran his dexterous fingers through his thick red hair, moving them down his neck and running his palms along the smoothness of his chest in rapid movements, gradually reaching to their destination—Reno's hand—drawing it to his, now more visible, arousal.

Soon their breathing became erratic. Reno didn't know what to do. His hand hesitated in Yazoo's persistent one, but seeing how the remnant couldn't take it anymore (this pleasure had been denied him for so long), the Turk's skinny fingers unbuckled his belt, and started stroking the best he could. After that point, his mind went blank for a few seconds, when he realized what he was doing.

He gasped at the sight before him; he was witnessing the only thing so far that seemed genuine on Yazoo's part- his occasional, quiet, rapturous grunts of pleasure, his hand tightly squeezing Reno's, as they rapidly moved, in unison. His other hand was clutching Reno's strong shoulder so tight Reno was sure it would leave a bruise afterwards.

Yazoo threw his head back as he was nearing his climax, reaching unimaginable heights as he felt himself emptying in Reno's tight grip. After so much writhing and occasional stillness, he stiffened, arched his back and came in silence; cyan eyes wide as if he'd just been shot through the head. When he came to, he lowered his head to see Reno's clouded eyes, which indicated that he had lost all his reason. He could feel the redhead was painfully aroused, and feeling tired and empty by default, he knew he could do little to relieve his partner.

There was one thing, however, that could be done and the very thought of it made him both sick and delighted. Tiredly, but soberly, he tapped Reno's belt in order for him to take the hint and unbuckle it, as he slid from his lap, his thighs sweaty and sticky, and positioned himself facedown on the bed.

Reno entered him without a second thought, despite him not being prepared, causing the great friction and pain to surge through Yazoo's body, who only bit his lower lip and waited for the hell to be over. Sadistic as he was, this was unexpected of him, but he drew pleasure from wicked and sick things, and this one was the sickest he could manage at the moment. He felt disgusted with Reno doing this in an animalistic way of his, without much imagination, just the urgency to get rid of his own semen. On the other hand, he couldn't blame him, for he felt the same, the destructive power of unused sexual energy.

This was another irony that occurred to the redhead, later, when his mind was clear again—he hadn't had sex in a long time, and the first person to have it with was a _man_, and _Yazoo_, of all people. Sinking to the lowest, he came into the remnant and released him at once, when he realized what he had done, how, despite Yazoo's efforts, his muscles convulsed in agony and pain.

"Are you alright, yo?" he asked quietly, his voice broken. Yazoo stood from the bed, thinking about the hideousness of their act. They weren't even naked. They never managed to at least get undressed. He snorted and looked down his legs, where the semen ran in rivulets. That was the only thing that disgusted him, in fact. He looked at Reno, and then headed to the bathroom, managing not to limp, and leaving him confused and worried.

* * *

When all the excitement subsided, the heaviness of guilt fell upon the Turk, who couldn't do anything but sit in Yazoo's bed, stare at one spot on the wall of the kitchenette, and think what to do next. The situation was getting complex and he wasn't sure if he could find his way out without any severe consequences, because, no matter what he would do, it appeared wrong in his eyes.

His resolve hadn't been strong enough and he was ashamed of himself Betraying his own principles like this…But he comforted himself that at least some of his principles remained intact. His sexual and love life had nothing to do with ShinRa's recovery, he mused. His professional ethics, on the other hand, were telling a different story. If he couldn't keep his zipper closed around the one he was supposed to guard and supervise, would he be competent to perform any other duty anymore? This was a blemish in his career. Yet it tasted bittersweet and, in brief moments of madness, he couldn't help but admit that deep down there lay some sort of admiration toward the remnant.

"You are so pitiful." Yazoo said, startling him from his thoughts. He was leaning against the wall, a white towel wrapped around his waist.

"Come again?" Reno took the defensive stance, scowling.

"Much ado about nothing. Ordering so many rookies to follow me in order for you to keep your distance, when you're so easily susceptible to indulgences like this one. Quite ironic, don't you think?" Yazoo said in one breath in his teasing, malicious voice. He had the point and Reno knew this. But to be enveloped in such warmth couldn't be such a bad thing either, could it?

"Shut up right now, yo!" he said. That was all he could think of. But Yazoo wouldn't listen.

"Why, when it's the truth? You aren't capable of being a mere dog of shachou's. How pitiful…."he purred. "But that's exactly what enables me to have some fun, too. Who could blame you, then?" he straddled Reno and his beautiful red hair touched the soft pillow.

"It can't be that bad, either." The Turk said wryly.

"But you go down alone." Yazoo whispered, caressing his face, tilting his head to the left. "How sad for a prominent member of Turks such as yourself. Sooner or later, they will find out."

Reno frowned again, swallowing hard. "What are you going to do, tell them?"He snorted, tracing the curves of Yazoo's neck with his sensitive fingertips. "Don't be ridiculous. I can take care of myself. I can kill you if I want to." His grip on Yazoo's throat was tighter, but not deadly. Yazoo smirked, placing his hands on top of Reno's, encouraging him to tighten the grip. But Reno let go, seeing how the remnant felt delighted by being deprived of air.

The silver haired youth reached for the redhead's shirt, and its owner didn't protest. Yazoo's eyes were encouraging regarding that. Soon he found himself naked, feeling the remnant's butterfly kisses all over his throat and collarbone, going down to his chest and belly, only to return and claim his lips. He emitted incredible warmth. It was so soothing, and Reno closed his eyes.

Somewhere miles from reality, he locked this memory, as the sound of the drawer opening and closing could be heard in the distance. He opened his eyes, opening his mouth to say…

"Oh, no you won't!" He grabbed Yazoo's arm, trying to make him drop the tube of lubricant. He wondered where he had bought it (and if he'd bought it) and if he had been preparing for this all along. There was this disturbing fact that made him release Yazoo's arm—it was time for retribution, anyway. It was only fair.

Yazoo's face remained unchanged, as he prepared him slowly and carefully, so that he would feel as little pain and discomfort as possible, and teased him a little. Another thing that took the Turk by surprise was the pack of condoms on the night stand, which he hadn't noticed earlier. And now Yazoo was putting one of them on. Then he dived into the redhead and both of them lost all reason.

His pelvis was like a groove that fit perfectly Yazoo's own pelvis, and he felt secure and beyond reach of all the hideous concerns. The warmth cocooned them; Yazoo's eyes were trained on his, transfixing his heart and making him nervous. On the other hand, endorphin in his brain told him to relax and remove the strands of wet silver locks sticking to his partner's neck.

The way Yazoo was making love to him now resembled mockery; it was as if he was showing the redhead how it should be done, in a refined way, but he bit his lip and let it pass. It was pleasant anyway.

He hadn't put much struggle, had he? Why would he, when some ethereal thing, intangible, surreal, was telling him that he shouldn't lose this, for it was special in its own way. It wasn't unique and it hadn't happened for the first time, but was nevertheless sweet as the softest peach. Such feeling always made him elated, so why blocking them?

* * *

The phone was persistent. Someone murmured something grumpily, and the red head protruded from the sheets. A long arm followed, successfully managing to find the pants on the floor and draw the telephone from the pocket. It brought the phone to the ear.

"What?" he asked sleepily, then straightened up in his bed, smiling. "That's great news." He said, waiting for the other party to say something, but another arm, which wasn't his, protruded from the sheets, snatched the phone and threw it against the wall.

"What the fuck, Yazoo?" Reno shouted, angered. "Barrett just called and said that he and Tifa got a baby girl…"

"Hn" Yazoo said, turning his back to Reno.

"Barrett mentioned a name when you interrupted…Perhaps Tifa wanted me to name the baby?"

"Any suggestions?" the remnant asked disinterestedly. Reno flopped down on the pillows, supporting his head with his hands.

"Hmm…" He said. Then, after a long pause, he added, "How about Hana?2 We saw Tifa and everyone among the flowers yesterday, so why not?" But received no response from Yazoo.

* * *

**TBC…How do you think their relationship would work and if it would work? What about others finding out? **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! **

1 Allusion to_ A Game of Chess_, title of a part of T.S. Eliot's poem 'Wasteland'

2 Hana (Japanese) Flower(s). But I guess you already knew. :)


	13. Submission and Dominance

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 13: Submission and Dominance**

The days resumed as per usual, with a bit of apprehension on Reno's part. Their routine included them spending nights in Yazoo's bed, or doing their usual stuff—sparring, disagreeing on almost everything, and so on.

The things they'd been up to recently could only signify desecration of their bodies and morals on various levels. Neither of them felt fulfilled in any way whatsoever. Drained and empty as they felt every time they came into each other made them brood over their situation, without them coming to any conclusion in the end.

The one who got it real bad, was, as usual, the redhead. It hadn't been alright when he was with his colleague, but Rufus and Tseng had turned a blind eye on their affair, counting on their underling; he'd always bring magnificent results, plus he was such an enthusiast when it came to rebuilding the Corporation. He would set a good example for others, they mused, so they let him slip off the hook and do what he pleased with Elena.

However, being with his protégé was something entirely different. Firstly, as his supervisor, he shouldn't have indulged in such activities; what was always required in his establishment was sheer professionalism and cold-bloodedness (despite his cheerfulness, no one could deny that Reno was also cold-blooded, he'd never even blinked when assassinating any of Rufus' enemies, as already stated). Besides, imagine if he slept with a person he was about to kill, for instance! Where this all would lead? Forming bonds, confessing—even cold-blooded, their role as Turks never excluded their role as human beings. Reno was there to set an example, not to go on a rampage or love adventures.

Secondly, the person in question wasn't a mere foe of the Corporation. It was _Yazoo_. The name itself was intimidating enough; everybody still remembered his crazy, distorted voice, hid strange gestures, his deadly aura even when they'd been running a number of tests on him and he was calm all the time. Something wasn't right about him and his request. That was one of the reasons Reno had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on him, since he was regarded as Rufus' most trusted Turk. Reno knew this, trying to justify his doings by thinking of them as means of satisfying both his superior's and his curiosity. Such musings further lead to conclusion that he was indeed protecting ShinRa's interests.

But if it were so, then he, as a scout, should have done something more productive. If it were so, then why were all of those facts making such effects on his internal organs, the feeling of something peeling his skin agonizingly slowly every time when he left Yazoo's bed late at night, without a minute spent sleeping? He had recently checked the calendar. It was three months into the second year now, since they'd met each other under those strange circumstances.

Reno pinched the bridge of his nose. Writing reports was always tiring, since he had to invent most of its contents. He couldn't possibly say that on a particular day Yazoo didn't get out of his apartment because he was in bed with him, could he? Writing the truth seemed difficult, too, since he spent most of his time in the butchery, doing the twelve-hour long shifts. He was, as he had been obliged to be—a good and hard-working citizen. The only time when he could be free was on weekends, and that was when they sparred and participated in races. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a pattern that would, probably, make Rufus and Tseng paranoid.

He'd tried to convince Yazoo, on various occasions, to talk some sense into his boss or his daughter. Yazoo had ignored him. Nothing indicated that all of this would ever change. He was wondering how much of this monotony his protégé could take. He was trying to work in his interest, to remove the unnecessary ballast, but the remnant wouldn't listen. It was his way of defying him, the Turk was sure of it. As the time went by he felt more uneasy; something was about to come and bring relentless suffer to all of them.

* * *

Later that day, Reno witnessed something unusual, but still believable. He was loitering in Yazoo's apartment, sitting in the kitchenette and nibbling at the carrot he found in the refrigerator. The day comparatively pleasant, save for the sharp wind (it was important that sun was there all the time, the rays of light protruding from the small holes in the roof). _He_ wasn't there, however; his shift was to be over in approximately four hours.

Having finished the carrot, Reno staggered to the bed and collapsed on top of it, ready for a pleasant nap. He buried his face in Yazoo's pillows, remaining in his shoes just to annoy his meticulous little remnant. He'd done it a number of times, but Yazoo never showed that he was annoyed, yet still Reno liked to think of it that way, that he was annoying the youth, that he was the cause of all his sorrows in this world.

The phone rang somewhere on the nightstand. Yazoo religiously picked up his cell phone. A beep. He kept the phone tightly to his ear, with both his hands; his back turned toward Reno's sleeping form. The conversation was short, but meaningful. He glanced at the man, uttered another 'hn' before exiting.

The Turk opened his eyes. What was that? He wondered, but it wasn't that hard to guess. It was one of his brothers, probably Loz. He shifted comfortably in his bed, not in the least thinking that it high time he left. The decency said so, yet he paid no mind to it. He felt warm and sleepy, pleasantly surprised by the remnant's reaction to the phone call. This said a lot about him, but he could be easily wrong. Everything about Yazoo seemed to be misleading.

The warmth of his own bed called him through his dreams, but he refused to acknowledge it. The only one who had a say in this was Yazoo, if he chose to throw him out in the cruelest way possible. Perhaps then he'd allow guilt to settle in his stomach like salmonella.

* * *

The setting was as expected, some secluded place no one dared to visit, in this case, the ruins near Edge. The inhabitants hadn't made it to this one, yet, but the progress was visible. It was the matter of months before they spread their tools and machines everywhere and start restoring this abandoned place, for now Loz's and Yazoo's secret meeting place. Rufus would invest in this building, Yazoo mused, and the mob would scream his name like some religious mantra.

He joined his brother- demoted to–the function-of-his- former-comrade. Loz was calm, beautiful in his robustness, his tight leather clothes left nothing to imagination. He was swinging his legs in the air, looking at the city in construction. His eyes revealed nothing, whether he was impressed or indifferent to his surroundings. Yazoo supported himself with his hands, placing them behind his back; the dust dirtied his gloves. He looked in the same direction as Loz.

"I see you're doing pretty well down there." Loz said bitterly, "Couldn't miss seeing you limp, though. On many occasions." His voice faltered. He recalled Kadaj's remark on that. At first the youngest would throw a tantrum, screaming that he didn't want to hear anything about Yazoo, then quietly asking for his well-being. "Is something wrong, Yazoo? Could it be that Kadaj was right?"

"About what?" Yazoo lazily turned his head to face Loz. Darkness hid the blush of the one that appeared oldest of the three. He hesitated, so it was easy for Yazoo to understand the nature of his question.

"About you and that idiot…?" his voice was more apprehensive. Yazoo averted his gaze since he found the city outline more interesting that his brother's tear-stained face, apprehension- stricken and distorted.

"What do you think about it, Loz?" he asked in a singsong voice.

"I think it's wrong on so many levels, Yazoo. He's not the one you're supposed to trust, let alone let him fuck you." His voice was now the one of reprimanding older brother; he frowned slightly; he, too, was looking at the outline. He found it a bit harder to breathe because he wasn't familiar with the situation and never thought of Yazoo being with anyone or acknowledging that such things existed.

"Do I have to remind you that you are still a virgin?" he asked distortedly and disdainfully. Who was Loz to question his choices? Loz scowled, shifted a bit, blinking several times. "Things are always going to my advantage, so stop crying."

"I'm not crying."

Yazoo looked at him and patted him on the shoulder. As much as he wanted to tease him, he let it rest for now, because Loz was the living proof of them reuniting once again, in the future…maybe.

"You wanted me to come here and recount you my sex life?" he sounded like someone from the village who had made it in the big city, with Loz playing the role of his fellow cousin who knew nothing about the world, and wanted to learn, to have a blind faith in him, to regard him as his guide and his God.

"Hell no!" the short-haired remnant instantly replied, having the expression of a disgusted child who talked about kissing with his friend. A short pause ensued, while he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Kadaj wonders when you're going to return. To realize you're wrong and come back before they shoot you."

"Why?"

"Those people he collected…well, he discarded all adults and kept the children because he says it's best to work with them. Their minds are young and like clay—you can shape them however you want. The point is, he wants to train them to be mercenaries….he's got that big idea, you know, of making a career as a mercenary, like Nii-san…It's like a, like a…"

"Like a big army?" Loz nodded.

"He needs you to teach them marksmanship…Just think about it, we'd be together again." His face brightened up a bit, tears forming in the corners of his cyan eyes.

"Tell Kadaj I'll think about it. I'm doing fine here and I'm not dead yet." Yazoo was calm despite being somewhat glad that his comrades hadn't rejected him in entirety. However, he had no intention of giving up for he was a proud male, as most of his kind was, who wanted to prove his point. "Everything is going to fall apart in the end. Rufus Shinra isn't as good as he presents himself to the mob." He said disdainfully. People still believed in miracles. This was the longest he would ever speak with Loz.

"Does that mean you'd come with us when he exposes himself? What do you think he would do? How long will it take?"

"Years, perhaps."

"Years?" the muscular one found himself in disbelief. "How so?"

"Still haven't seen through him, but I will." Yazoo's words echoed throughout the building, his words coming out slow as if he had been drugged. He had enough of Loz's questions, assumptions and accusations. Kadaj's plans seemed interesting and occupied his mind all the way back to his place.

The truth was, Rufus would rather take months than years. He would be impatient; something would occur. Perhaps he would discover his relationship with Reno; perhaps something much greater would trigger the great hunt. Either way, it would be a great spectacle, however it turned out in the end.

He unlocked the door only to discover the redhead still occupying his bed. The man never learned when he was unwanted.

* * *

Reno held his hips a bit tighter that night, sighing and groaning over his shoulder, his ponytail all wet, sticking to his partner's neck. A kiss on the shoulder was reassuring, however; the pain inYazoo's lower back would be gone soon. The phenomenon of warm bodies, curly pubic hairs, wet from anticipation, semen and sweat, trembling limbs, and the feeling that some kind of steam was rising all around them—the illusion he had since it was very hot that night—never ceased to wake his interest. The more he got, the more unexplored it was, incomplete and meaningless; it was as if he was missing some key point just by an inch and he wasn't able to grasp it.

Reno's body pressed against his own, arms enveloping him; two strong, lean men being intimate, drying the skin of their backs and shoulders with the warm, soothing breath, almost like a breeze in the early morning. He loved contemplating it, delighting in the news Loz had brought him earlier. It had been a while since they'd slept together, Reno and he. Incoherence of thoughts.

He arched his back, eliciting a sigh from the redhead, the proof that he still enjoyed it, his response being more aggressive, his arms tightening around his hips, which, gradually, wrapped themselves around his belly, symbolizing, in Yazoo's clouded mind, Reno's accepting him as a man rather than an animal. Which made no sense whatsoever to the one who couldn't care less for such things.

Eventually, the Turk collapsed on top of him, managing a few more short thrusts- aftershocks of orgasm- his palms pressed against Yazoo's abs firmly. The silver haired youth was desperately trying to control his breathing, to make it even, by holding his breath and trembling slightly.

"How come you let me do you…at all, I mean?" Reno managed.

"Hn" Yazoo uttered, detaching himself from the redhead. If he knew it wasn't about who was submissive and who dominant, it would disappoint his lover, he believed. Everything revolved about pleasures such sex brought. As simple as that. But Reno always saw profounder meanings in everything.

* * *

**TBC…?**

**Please R&R :) **


	14. Warmth

**AN: ** Another chapter. A twist, finally. Some plot development. Hope you'll enjoy it!

**Warnings: Sex (not too graphic, maybe not graphic at all), minor violence, probably a tad disturbing, but it's not as disturbing as I imagined it. Probably not disturbing at all. Dunno. You've been fairly warned!**

**Now, let's move on with the story! Please leave a comment afterwards!**

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 14: Warmth**

The blanket was pulled up to his chin. His left cheek dug in the soft pillow. Warmth was enveloping him and he enjoyed it. It was one of those nights when Reno felt too lazy to drive to his own apartment. He had opted, yet again, to sleep over at his place, in his bed, without asking for permission first. Not that he cared. Ever since they had started sleeping together, he felt more comfortable around the redhead.

As the time passed, they learned to control their sex drive. They made love once or twice a week, mostly because Reno wanted to avoid suspicion, the other reason being lack of need for performing it as frequently as they used to. They followed this routine without a word uttered about it. Over the time, the only form of communication between the two was nonverbal. Reno wanted to prevent most of the fallouts that way, because every argument threatened this tenuous truce.

Reno was usually cheerful when in his company, talking about this and that, walking backwards and facing him at the same time whenever they went somewhere on foot (usually to Tifa's place, to visit Hana),yet never hitting anything or tripping. He was very good at avoiding any kind of collision with objects that were in his way, when he was walking in that fashion. This was interesting to Yazoo, who would, occasionally, tilt his head to one side whenever Reno said something interesting, or avoided collision with something. It was not a surprise, with Reno's level of skill, agility, and instincts required for his profession. This was the simplest the redhead could do. Nevertheless, it amused the former remnant from time to time, and he would sometimes, just to see the reaction on the Turk's face, let it show.

Tonight, however, Yazoo, as a light sleeper, was forced to wake up. A small stir on Reno's side of the bed was enough. The remnant sighed inaudibly, slowly opening his eyes just in time to see the Turk in his naked glory, his back facing Yazoo, while he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The redhead's shoulders rose slowly and then fell, indicating that he had just released a heavy sigh. For what reason, Yazoo was only left to guess, but he had the general idea.

Reno was looking nowhere in particular, and thinking about what he had done this night. Again. Even though he had promised himself (on various occasions, in the solemnest inner voice he could manage) that he wouldn't repeat this. Not again. But he always broke the promise freshly made.

His hands were restless, fingers nervously tapping on his thighs. He managed another sigh, contemplating, as usual, what had become of him. This was not his usual behavior. The root of his restlessness lay in him being still flabbergasted at the direction in which he was going. Betraying his ideals, principles, the company that he was, with great effort, trying to revive, rebuild its infrastructure and its reputation, that was what he was doing.

On the other hand, being with Yazoo brought him some important revelations about himself, life in general, and sources of love and affection. Watching him every day, as he did inexplicable things, such as working double shifts for someone who paid him poorly, who never appeared, and whose daughter was hitting on him nonstop instead of helping out; wondering how Yazoo could put up with such treatment; not understanding how it fit his profile, what the benefits of such conduct were; such things were giving him the insight into Yazoo's painfully simple, yet, in a way, complicated mind. It gave him an insight into how he could understand so little about the man who was all but ordinary, who was all but pacifist (yet lived a, seemingly, peaceful life), and who could be affectionate, in a twisted way, though, whenever he wanted. Yazoo's affections consisted of kissing, touching fiercely, or not touching at all, during the sexual intercourse.

He couldn't declare himself bisexual, for men had never excited him. It had been Yazoo who seduced him, without a plan whatsoever, but, upon seeing that he could, he'd taken full advantage of the Turk. The power of it all had gone in an unknown direction and was out of control. Reno couldn't know if Yazoo was ever to drop him, forget about him and move on; if he would, in the near future, attempt to hurt him or kill him. The very thought of such things happening made sinews in Reno's chest tighten. The uncertainty of the situation at hand, his inability to control it and behave in a suitable (read: required) manner, was making him extremely uneasy. The question was: why was he still sticking to the plan of being hospitable toward the remnant, who never deserved it? Why descending to such depths of misery and, most importantly, _shame_?

He wondered about the consequences, in case somebody found out about his relationship with Yazoo. He still couldn't find a definition of this all, but he knew that he was getting more and more tangled in something that would never be pleasant and whose end would bring only sorrow, misery, and disgrace. For him, and nobody else. Perhaps things could've been better if Yazoo could tell him what this was. If he could define it for him. Their status was no longer of supervisor and the one being supervised and guided. Neither of them guided one another.

Reno felt exposed. Guilt and conscience were working against him, sending cold shivers down his spine (such a twisted, sick feeling), reaching to the core of his being. He could bet that Yazoo didn't care about the consequences at all. For him, it was just the matter of time before he dropped it all, perhaps. Reno couldn't know. But Yazoo wasn't one who went for sympathy, compassion, or any kind of emotion. Except, maybe, for his brothers. Brothers. 'Maybe' brothers. They were the only source of his affections and suffer, in Reno's view. Perhaps.

Slowly, he rose from the bed, unaware of Yazoo watching him with half-open eyes. Never bothering to look for his underwear, he put on his pants and a dress shirt, completely forgetting about his suit jacket. His mind could be depicted as an office in disarray right now, without computers as the piles of paper fell from the desks and shelves, flying in the air. Nobody was there to pick them up.

He went out to grab some fresh air, for the air in the room was stale and reeked of sex. He didn't want to remember it every single moment. Of how he broke the rules and promises so easily for the purpose unknown. What was the thing about Yazoo that made him come back? Sometimes, Yazoo could utter a few wise sentences, put a smile on his face. His skill at making sarcastic remarks was outstanding. It always sparked a bit of admiration on the redhead's part.

He unlocked and opened the door of Yazoo's home. Yes, home. Somewhere where the remnant could always return to, no matter how ridiculous it sounded in his mind. But in this place, there wasn't the warmth a home could offer. Only with Yazoo's presence lingering there, could it be called pleasant. He would often catch himself grabbing onto particles of Yazoo's presence in the air, with his nose, when the silver haired man wasn't home.

Stepping out into the cold night, he inhaled the stench from the yard, yet it felt refreshing. His large blue eyes looked up, looking for moon and stars, but all of them went to sleep. They went home.

He was too absorbed in his thoughts to hear the bed creak and rustling of the clothes. Moments later, he was startled from his thoughts by the suit jacket hanging on Yazoo's index finger, by his shoulder. The remnant said nothing, just offered it to him, then pushed him lightly outside, stepping behind him and locking the door.

* * *

For someone who drained all the cheerfulness from the redhead, Yazoo was very proud. Yet he could not stand another night being woken up by heavy sighs of his lover. He took the car keys from Reno, pointing at the passenger seat. Most of the night, Yazoo was driving in random directions, wordlessly. Reno observed him with curiosity.

"Say, Yazoo, what's going on with your boss, yo?" he asked out of curiosity. When it came to that, he was so persistent. Yazoo's boss was a healthy, robust individual, sporting indicated that he would ever retire from the business.

"When he was younger, he used to participate in races. Now he retired from everything. He's a widower, too. Perhaps everything weighed on his shoulders?" Yazoo offered. For the first time did he answer Reno's questions seriously and honestly. But, if he was so strong, the boss, how was it possible to be so easily broken?

"Not that you could understand what it feels like." Reno snorted. "Right, yo?" the sentence could be labeled as sarcastic, but there wasn't any tone of sarcasm in it. Just a simple statement and a simple question. Yazoo didn't reply. "Well," Reno continued, "either way, you're right. Not to mention he has a slut as his daughter. She keeps hitting on you more often these days." His remark was casual. One again, Yazoo was silent. Reno was used to it. The ride was nice and smooth and it made Reno a bit calmer. He was sleepy.

After half an hour, Yazoo stopped before Reno's building. The redhead, who was dozing off, shook his head and straightened in his seat. Good reasoning, he thought. I haven't spent much time sleeping in my own bed.

"Your partner. He's getting suspicious." Yazoo turned toward him.

"No, he's not." Reno replied. "At least not yet. But he might, in the future." His eyebrow was raised, because he was proving a point. He always did that. Yazoo studied his proportional face, tattoos on either side of it, straight nose, and thin lips. "But all of that is none of your concern." As long as you acknowledge it, it's good, he thought. That's good.

He shifted in his seat, to face Yazoo better. "What I'm about to say is an order. You have to obey. In all seriousness, Yazoo." The change of mood was instant. Reno was still thinking about too many things at once. His face didn't look exhausted, however. Yazoo never looked away, but waited. "You have one week to make your shifts last eight hours. Like they're supposed to. I don't care how you'll do it."

"Otherwise?" Yazoo snorted, widening his eyes. Reno only cockily smirked, and exited the vehicle. The remnant, knowing that he wouldn't get a reply, exited as well, and, without turning, without saying anything, started walking back home. Reno sat in the driver's seat, drove the car to the underground garage, and went to his own bed.

* * *

They always stuck so close together. Almost as a couple, Tifa thought. Which was strange, but not surprising. Reno would theatrically enter, cheerfully greet them all, tease Cloud, who, by the way, had gotten more introvert these past few days. Something was on Cloud's mind.

Yazoo, on the other hand, only followed the redhead, his head lowered, his eyes threatening, psychotic. He spoke little, he did little; he never looked at Reno, let alone addressed him. That was how she concluded. Shame was written all over everything Reno was doing. Ignoring Yazoo. Or trying to be friendly. She only quirked an eyebrow, labeling this as an interesting development, and was eagerly waiting to see what would happen next. She never shared her perceptions with anyone, for fear of exposing the couple.

Last week, something interesting had happened. She'd been encouraged by Reno to let Yazoo carry the baby. At first, she didn't want to. But Reno was persistent. Yazoo was pretending he didn't hear any of it. But Tifa was a brave girl. She approached him, addressing him.

"Yazoo? Would you like to carry Hana a bit? Just to see how it feels." She said awkwardly, her voice trembling a little. Nevertheless, it was friendly. The key thing was to be as close to him as possible, so that he couldn't refuse.

Warily, she extended her arms. Hana was a big baby now, almost six months old, with large brown eyes and darkish skin. The remnant cast a sideway glance in Reno's direction, then he looked at Tifa. Seeing that he couldn't avoid this (technically, he could, but his Nii-san and Barrett, who were nearby, were throwing glances of disbelief in Tifa's direction, and threatening one in his, showing no hesitation to jump him if necessary. Barrett didn't matter. It was Cloud who was holding all the strings.), he reached for the baby.

At first, he was holding her firmly beneath her arms, away from his body, as if she had been a bomb. Dumbfounded in this new situation, he looked even funny. Tifa's features relaxed and she chuckled. Reno was watching with great interest.

Tifa wasn't sure if he believed that Yazoo could turn for better. She knew for sure that the silver haired man didn't feel any kind of remorse for his past actions. But the Turk insisted on his inclusion. He was slowly stimulating Yazoo's good sides, she could tell. But the remnant, even though it wasn't visible, was resisting. He was good at disguising.

Hana didn't cry in his arms. When she got used to the new person, she even cooed happily. The first thing to catch her interest was his long silver hair. Her small fingers were pulling at it, then got tangled. The next thing was his nose. She wanted to stick her fingers in his nostrils. He was fiercely resisting, but she was persistent, giggling all the time.

Yazoo was walking slowly from one corner of the room to another, trying to stop her. He was holding Hana closer now; the girl was sitting on his forearm, her left arm resting on his shoulder, her right one trying to poke his eye. All the time, he was keeping his face obscured. Nothing revealed that he was laughing or even smiling. Fifteen minutes later, he stepped before Tifa, emotionlessly detaching the girl from his chest, handing it over like an object.

Another strange thing that occurred later was Cloud's reaction on Reno's remark.

"Sephiroth could be alive as well." He said. "Have you two fucked yet?" But he was teasing half heatedly. Another sign that he was involved with Yazoo, in Tifa's view. Reno knew that he wasn't any better in that regard.

Cloud frowned, and he practically flew toward the Turk, sending a fist in his direction. But Reno, naturally, dodged it. "Let's go, Yazoo." He said. The remnant followed. All of them were aware of this possibility. Sephiroth was _somewhere_. And Cloud knew something about it.

* * *

Two weeks after that, Yazoo wondered if Kadaj had contacted Cloud as well. Right now, he was watching Reno clip his fingernails. In the park. It was a strange sight to behold, but what did he know? He wouldn't be surprised if Reno decided to clip his toenails there, as well. The day was surprisingly and pleasantly warm. He didn't take his coat with him.

Reno was thinking about his attempt to send Yazoo and Loz to death. He was sleeping with Yazoo now. The man was tangible. He had memorized everything about his body. Everything was in his fingers. Yazoo's DNA was inside of him, if form of saliva. They were kissing. It was there in form of Yazoo's sweat when they sparred. The evidence he existed. He breathed. He slept and ate. He had held a baby. Once. He had height and weight. He was tall and slim. He was smart. Wise, even. Yet inexperienced. And experienced. Depending on how you look at things. But for Reno to be so absorbed into something like this, so formidable, so terrifying, was pointless. They didn't know how to call themselves.

Such thoughts had partly been triggered by Elena's constant phone calls. He would sometimes go for a walk with her, or a drink, now that she was back. She was cheerful as always, and humorous. Her company kept him sane in the last two weeks. His situation with Yazoo was becoming unbearable. On the other hand, what he had done for him two nights ago, Reno could interpret as some form of kindness. Yazoo had sensed his foul mood and tried to relax him. Probably. But it was most likely that he had only wanted to sleep in peace and quiet.

Elena still hadn't said anything about them getting back together. Something she'd proposed before she'd gone on a mission. She was back now. He hoped they would initiate such conversations in the future. It was the safest thing to do, for him. He was sure Yazoo wouldn't mind, since it was in his nature to be that way. Disinterested. They weren't even a couple.

Soon, this feeling of uneasiness will be gone, he thought. He hoped for the best.

* * *

However, the redhead wasn't so adamant about it. There was a possibility that Elena would decide otherwise. Even he didn't know if he would accept her proposal, were she to give it.

Yazoo's hand ran through his hair, as the remnant leaned in to kiss him. He didn't even suspect. This all may end soon. Unconsciously, the Turk placed his hand on top of Yazoo's. The kiss was slow, but deep. Even when they were as close as this, Yazoo seemed distanced, sometimes.

The remnant's tongue worked well around his entrance, now that they'd ended up on the bed. His hands firmly held his buttocks apart. Reno was on his knees and elbows, inhaling sharply. The lips climbed to the small of his back, going upwards, covering every pore with kisses. Slowly, without rush. Reno straightened a bit, sitting on his heels now, as the remnant placed his full lips on his shoulder, only to dig his face into the Turk's neck.

His slender fingers tugged at the redhead's chin, and Yazoo pulled him into a kiss. Tonight, Reno mused, Yazoo wasn't up for some crazy shit he liked. Fast, deep sex, perverted to the maximum, where lips and fingers touched everywhere, tongues stuck into everything, and where there was no time for thinking at all. Verging on animalistic. Something that was in character for both of them.

No. Yazoo was being gentle this time. And Reno returned it the same way. The silver haired man's hands wandered down, resting on the redhead's belly for a while, caressing it and admiring its flatness. The right one glided down to his cock, stroking gently.

Reno threw his head back, resting it on Yazoo's shoulder, while the remnant slowly pumped, leaning over his shoulder, calmly observing his ecstatic face. The Turk's eyes were looking at the ceiling, wide open and sporadically blinking. This is where he could put his usual remarks, such as, 'Oh, God, you're amazing!' which he had uttered several times, and ones similar to them, too, when sleeping with Yazoo. They had a comical effect and it seemed that Yazoo appreciated it. But he could easily be wrong. Instead of saying anything now, he kept quiet.

Lulled into warmth and steady rhythm of the remnant's hand, it occurred to him that lately, they'd looked more like a couple than anything else. Even without sex, that was how they looked like. Which stirred uneasiness and self-doubt in him again.

Yazoo was breathing into his ear, his look on him fixed. Kneeling naked behind him, his arousal was pressing against the small of his back. Reno could picture him, his back, his form, and think of it as something divine. It looked like a privilege, being with him like this. The very thought that Yazoo was wasting his precious time on him was something he hated. Precious time? Wasting? No, he wasn't belittling himself and wasn't idolizing his protégé. The most important thing was that Yazoo was there, behind him. Present.

The remnant's long hair was tickling his shoulder. Then Yazoo bit his ear. Everything seemed agonizingly long, in Reno's view. It appeared that Yazoo was trying to take everything in, all his smells, all his warmth, all of him. To absorb everything until nothing was left. Maybe it was so. He was doing it systematically, part by part, with great patience. He was watching Reno as his teeth still teased the delicate ear. He pulled at the earring.

A sigh escaped his lips, making goose bumps all over Reno's body. It indicated that the remnant became impatient. The strokes were faster, but restricting. Yazoo released him, and they started with their routine of lovemaking. The only time when Yazoo was undoubtedly honest. His face twisted in pleasure; he even released small grunts, which reminded the Turk of ones Cloud had described in his report, when Yazoo was dying.

Soon the roles reversed, which the Turk accepted with little complaint. He was laying facedown, arms on either side of his head. One of Yazoo's hands was firmly holding his hip; the hand of the other one placed over Reno's; fingers intertwined, clutching the sheets together. The thrusts became more intense; Reno could feel the matter was urgent now. On both sides. He could picture his lover's face, deeply frowning as he was fighting fiercely to reach his orgasm. At one point, he even bit the Turk's shoulder lightly. It sent Reno over the edge.

* * *

Assuming that they could interact normally, Reno asked for a glass of water afterwards. Yazoo just nodded, got out of bed and went to the kitchenette. The sound of running water invaded the Turk's ears. He was sleepy, barely awake.

The glass of water appeared beside his head. He propped himself on the elbow and emptied it in one go. Wordlessly, Yazoo got back to bed, as he put the glass on the floor beside the bed. It felt refreshing after such intense sex.

Some three hours later, he was dreaming about going to the toilet, but for one reason or another, couldn't urinate. Agonizingly slowly, he woke up and came to realize that he needed to go to the bathroom. Careful not to wake the light sleeper, he tried to get up, but the voice stopped him midway.

"Where are you going?" Yazoo's voice was deep and a bit sleepy.

"Bathroom." He said quietly.

"Don't go" Yazoo said.

"I have to, man!" Reno retorted quickly. He tried to move, but couldn't. Before he even realized it, Yazoo was pinning him down for unknown reasons. The Turk was writhing beneath him, but couldn't release his arms. Panicked that he couldn't hold it much longer, he writhed fiercer, but there was no use. It was logical that Yazoo would be stronger in this situation, because he was a light sleeper and energetic all the time. To top it off, the Turk desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

In his erratic thoughts, Reno was trying to understand the reasons behind Yazoo's actions, but was unable to. "Let me go!" he hissed, but the only thing he got in response were two strong hands, pinning him down, one knee pressed against his bladder, and a steel look. Yazoo's face was expressionless.

The remnant removed one hand in order to reach for the glass beside the bed. He leaned over his victim, retrieved the glass and crushed it in his hand. The shards fell all over Reno, and beneath him, piercing his flesh. He wasn't in position to struggle anymore. "Yazoo, you fuck! Why are you doing this?" he hissed, but got no response. His body started to shiver, his bladder transfixed with sharp pain.

Not soon after, his muscles convulsed, and his bladder got significantly weaker. The remnant's eyes widened in expectation. One of his hands captured both of his, the other, together with his bare knee pressed his lover's bladder. Reno could do nothing but watch in horror as his own body betrayed him. Warm liquid trickled down his thighs, soaking the mattress in the process. His eyes widened, his mouth agape, as his cheeks flushed in shame. This, _this_ was real shame. The embodiment of what he felt inside, because of his relationship with this monster. He hadn't peed in his pants since he was a three year old. Why now? The shards were deep inside his tissue, blood mixing with his urine.

Yazoo was absorbing the image. There was no particular reason (at least no reason known to him) that made him torture Reno like this. He let him go. The Turk didn't say a word. He didn't even look at the mess, as if he wanted to detach himself from the incident, to think of the fluids as something that wasn't his.

He didn't show that he was mad. He didn't yell. He just quietly went to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door, and looked at himself in the mirror. Taking the glass out was a difficult task, and he focused solely on that. Naked, Yazoo approached the doorframe and watched what the Turk was doing. It didn't cross his mind that he could offer his help. On the other hand, Reno would probably just shove him.

The redhead was wincing a bit, every time he took the shard out. It was especially difficult because almost all of them ended up in his back. There were not many, only larger pieces, fortunately. He was done with that after one hour, checking once again if there were any shards left. Yazoo's naked form didn't interest him whatsoever.

Everything seemed to go back to normal, he thought. _Their_ version of normal. But he was forgetting an important fact. Yazoo and logic were two different things. He never followed it. For him to do something like this to the man who was his lover (presumably) for more than a year, was probably random, but like an urge. He had to satisfy his sadistic desire. He would never apologize. He was aware that Reno had taken this bad, but he couldn't process anything else. That was how he worked. That part of him and the part with conventions were disconnected. Reno knew this.

As much as he was angry and disappointed, he was elated, finding this the way out of everything. He presumed that Yazoo wasn't seeing them as a couple, which was good. In a way. Part of him mourned over it. Part of him was elated, since this was his way out of this sick situation. But he never let it show on his face. Yazoo's message was clear, he decided. He didn't want this anymore. And he was fine with that. Perfectly fine. If only he could convince himself to think that way. He was supposed to be happy about it. But, for some reason, he wasn't.

Yazoo removed the sheets and replaced them with the new ones. He could hear the water hit the tiles as his lover was taking a shower. Having finished, Reno quickly got dressed, without sparing him a look, and exited. The aura of him was grim, Yazoo could sense. The Turk was hurt and furious.

"Hn" was all he said to it, and resumed with making the bed.

* * *

**TBC…?**

Errors will be corrected later. Probably.


	15. Heavenly

**AN**: It's frustrating, really. College, no rest, no friends (they all went to their respective hometowns. My other friends are either busy, or complete bitches and so on), nothing. It's depressing, really. But I guess it's a good thing since it feeds my creativity. Now, the fact that I'm in a foul mood doesn't always mean I write angsty things. Well, today, you'll see… But my point is, I tend to write various things, but the energy stems from my foul mood, mostly.

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Robert Frost. The same applies to his poems.

On with the story! Sit back, enjoy yourselves, and try finding on the Internet the song Morphine by Japanese band BLOOD. Don't hesitate to leave a review. XD

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 15: Heavenly**

Liberated at last, Reno took a deep breath and continued walking down the street. He was too much of a practical person, a man of action, and didn't ponder much on the paradox of how him being humiliated by Yazoo, which had granted him freedom. Yet he still remembered vividly the wet sheets tangled around his feet, warm, and the mix of the stale air with the faint stench of urine. Yazoo pinning him down; glass shards stuck deep into his back. Pretty intense pain, Yazoo's cold stare, strong arms, no breathing on his part. As if he were not human. Not that it mattered anymore now. In fact, he was grateful to Yazoo, who had shown him, though indirectly and in an unconventional way, that he should act more professional. So this was what he was about to do. Take the reins and start all over.

Several days had passed since the incident. It didn't occur as odd, his lack of will and enthusiasm to see his protégé, for the reasons obvious to the reader. Still, he had promises to keep, to ShinRa, to himself, to people in Seventh Heaven. Those were not mere promises, but his duty.

"And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep…"Reno muttered. Robert Frost, the poem _Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening_. One of his favorites, the other being _The Road not Taken_(1). _Stopping by the Woods_, as he had read somewhere, could be interpreted like this: the common theme at the beginning of the twentieth century on Earth was nature versus society. A man on a horse passes by the woods that belong to some farmer, to admire the beauty of the nature, of the countryside, and his solitude, before he goes where he promised he'd come; perhaps it is related to work. He has to go back to society, and do what it is expected of him. As he continues his journey, he's got "miles to go before he sleeps, miles to go before he sleeps", which means to live on and live on in the same fashion until he dies, for instance. That was one of the versions, the one Reno preferred most.

The day was comparatively warm. He could have gone out without his suit jacket, but he thought it impolite. Perhaps Elena wanted to go to some restaurant, and he would be completely unprepared. Suit jacket seemed like the safest option, since he wasn't into tuxedoes and ties. He didn't have any time to waste; he was eager to settle his future and get back on the right track.

His colleague and former lover appeared several minutes later, from another direction, sporting a wide grin on her face. Reno couldn't help but continue the chain reaction, for Elena was famous for the bright aura around her, amiability, and overall cuteness. They met somewhere in the middle of the street; she looked up at him, putting a hand before her forehead for she couldn't see him clearly because of the sun. Her eyes had a spark of happiness to them that couldn't escape Reno's own eyes, as she said hello, and tagged at his sleeve, showing him to go to the nearby café.

"How is your _grand project_?" She asked happily, once they were seated. She ordered her regular—coffee. The redhead just shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess he's doing fine. I've been treating him too long as if he were a baby, so recently I've left him to his own devices. "He smiled proudly. "No crimes committed, but I was worried because it appears that he's a workaholic." He lied. Yazoo wasn't a workaholic. There must have been something behind him working double shifts. It was evident, somehow, to the redhead, that there was not enthusiasm in his movements when cutting the meat. Maybe there was no motive at all. Except for him trying to prove his point to Kadaj. That one was clear enough for even him to understand. For anyone who had been in that forest that day, truth be told.

"You said you _were_ worried? Does this mean the situation changed?" Elena asked simply. Reno nodded.

"Yeah. I ordered him to reduce his working hours, and he managed somehow. Now he's working only one shift. This gives us time to do other things."

"Like what?"

"We train martial arts. I must keep him in motion, to keep him healthy. "He said and he meant it, too. Even though the very thought of visiting Yazoo dreaded him, he still did visit him; he would ask him if he was alright, and spar with him every other day, two to five hours. The remnant was still quite good at it, extraordinary even, so they stayed from time to time longer than necessary. But that was all. Reno scarcely spoke with him, which was rare for him. He was, by nature, very talkative, but his anger and his desire to distance himself from Yazoo were so great that they prevented him to speak.

"Oh? That's quite nice!" Elena cooed. "I'm impressed that he's so obedient!"

"Well, my darling, that's Reno for you!" He grinned, ear to ear, slowly putting his hands on top of hers. He was proud of his work, or rather, the representation of work from Elena's point of view. She didn't object, quite the contrary; she leaned in closer. "Now tell me, baby, how was your mission? It took you lotsa time to come back, yo!" He leaned in toward her, as well.

* * *

Immediately after the bedroom incident, Yazoo decided to do what he was told. He'd expected Reno to be angry, to take some actions against him, in his more than predictable fit of anger, yet the redhead had done quite the opposite. He was, even several days after everything, so silent, so distant. No usual remarks, jokes Yazoo never appreciated enough to make him laugh, nothing. He hadn't said a word about it, and Yazoo learned it the harder way—people are endlessly, almost irreparably furious with another party if they don't shout. Their anger is so great that they cannot express it in words and actions, so they keep quiet and remain that way; their brain freezes.

He realized another thing—their relationship, for he was sure they had been lovers—was like a literary movement: no one knew when it exactly started and ended; only years later do the people reflect on what was done and name it. Just like Modernism, for instance. Reno would best know this; he was a man who read those things while sitting on the toilet; he could see through all the symbols, themes, motifs in one work, could make a science of it while eating his breakfast, as if solving Sudoku (Reno had told him about that game), in the matter of minutes. He could do such things, things that people on Earth studied for years and took to be their call. All their lives Reno would summarize into one morning.

The reasons for his sadistic action, he never cared to think about them; it had been like a completely natural urge. But the apartment did feel cold, without that natural smell, the smell of sex and Reno's presence in general, sans their lovemaking. His loud lover wasn't his lover anymore. He was there, but in different attire entirely, in his view, not in a physical sense whatsoever. He was stripped of his loudness, his proximity to Yazoo, his ability to understand him as much as he could, and act accordingly. Nothing was left of him, and Yazoo felt he was partly responsible. He was, after all, the man who was slowly sucking life out of the redhead. It had been his call recently.

The only sounds the Turk made were the sounds he was making when they sparred. Everything else was silence. Yazoo wasn't able to understand what he had done so terribly wrong. It was something he couldn't control. But it wasn't so important now, when it was clear that it was the thing that had driven Reno away. He would occasionally shrug his shoulders at the thought. What could he do? Force him into being together again? The feeling of wholeness wouldn't be the same. It was irreparable.

A pleasant breeze moved his hair a bit, as he turned to meet with his brother's face. Today they were going for a walk. During the day, no less. People from his neighborhood weren't so afraid of him as the people from the downtown would, so it was a relatively safe way to go. He was pretty sure Reno's rookies weren't around and that he wasn't going to be followed by anyone. At the moment, at least. One never knew.

* * *

They'd talked about Elena's mission, and later on, about various random things that crossed their minds, both funny and serious in one way or another. Now they were taking a walk, smiling goofily at each other. In Reno's mind, it was all fixed: they would start a brief relationship, which would soon result in marriage. It would be a very fast development, but he didn't ponder much on it. He had wanted this long ago, and it was finally happening.

"All's well that ends well, I guess." Elena said, referring to Reno's and her success. The redhead nodded in reply.

"He's still left a year and a half, though. We'll see what happens." He retorted. With that, all the talk about work was over. But it had triggered the thoughts about Yazoo's whereabouts at the given moment, if he was doing something stupid, dangerous, or useful. Elena gently touched his hand.

"Tell me again, why did we break up?" She asked quietly, looking him in the eye. The palm of his right hand was gently caressing her hand.

"Because I failed to protect you." He said seriously. She chuckled.

"You sound like Cloud." she said. "Stop it!" She punched him lightly in the arm, playfully, then drew herself nearer again.

* * *

It was as fate wanted it to be; the two former lovers crossed paths without one knowing. Loz was the witness of Yazoo's sudden change. His ever calm brother's face was still as calm as ever, but his eyes weren't.

They'd been passing near the cliffs. The wind became unbearable, whipping their faces. One couldn't help but blink almost all the time. They had to stop until the wind ceased. Loz's eyes were full of tears caused by the dust that the fiendish wind had blown into them, but when he managed to get rid of the dust, and blinked several times to banish the tears, he frowned deeper upon seeing the two figures pressed closely one against another. Without a mistake, it was Reno. And the woman they'd hurt.

"Look, Yazoo!" He said. "Isn't that your boy toy?" At that, Yazoo turned, at first not comprehending the question and why Loz asked it, and was about to say his usual 'hn', when he saw them. The couple seemed unaware of them, their faces getting closer, until their lips locked, at first innocently, only for the kiss to be deepened the next moment.

His eyes widened for half a second, then narrowed. The feeling was funny and unpleasant in entirety: he felt as if a piano had fallen on his head, and it also felt as if the elevator had suddenly stopped, causing that flip-flop in his guts and brain. His eyes weren't able to put the picture together; he didn't understand it, those several concepts gathered to make one: Reno, Elena, and the concept of kissing. He'd never seen the Turk kissing from any other perspective the one when they'd been face to face. The sight seemed unreal, dreamlike, and he was expecting someone to tell him it was a joke. But then his brain recovered, and he, after those shocking twenty seconds finally realized and put the picture together. The awful taste of bile in his mouth ensued, then clenching of his muscles and organs, feeling of betrayal, naturally, and fall. It felt as if he had fallen from some astronomic height and hit the ground, yet didn't die. The image was flashing before his eyes and he thought them ill, malfunctioning, but then that false picture settled. And wasn't false at all. It was final and absolute, the scene of kissing.

"Don't cry, Yazoo…" Loz said teasingly, not comprehending the gravity of the situation. Yazoo felt proud of his newfound emotions, for he had been made human after all, yet at the same time he resented them. Presently he collected himself and said in his usual voice,

"Let's leave this place, Loz." But his brother, or former comrade, finally detected his voice was pained. Yazoo gracefully turned around, and as soon as they reached the outskirts of the town, also known as Yazoo's neighborhood, they started a new topic, about Kadaj.

* * *

After such an outburst of emotions, there was nothing left to be said or done. They were walking in silence, tangible like nothingness. It was as if they had absolutely nothing else to say to one another, and that it would remain so for a long time. Reno walked her home, and headed home himself, the simplest he could do and all that he wanted at the moment.

At home, Rude was making dinner, as usual. He wondered if Rude knew anything about him and Yazoo, or suspected something had been going on. When asked why he had so much spare time on his hands, he'd replied he'd made Yazoo independent. Whatever he meant by it, Rude decided and hadn't asked further.

"So, how was your date?" A bald head protruded from the kitchen. Reno was seated on the sofa, his head thrown back on the back of it, a bit disappointed his plan might have failed.

"Very strange," He said. "It appeared we had nothing to talk about and won't have in the years to come…I can't quite explain it. It was weird and creepy." He replied in all honesty.

Rude sighed. "Well, partner, distance tends to do that to people." He went back to his cooking.

He's a good man, but that's not gonna console me, he thought, looking at the ceiling. He sighed tiredly, and, feeling his head was a bit heavy, decided it was time he went to bed.

* * *

How he'd managed to reduce his working hours? It was simple, quite simple. He had taken the old man for a ride, driving like a maniac, secretly hoping the old man would die of a heart attack. It didn't happen. But the things had been going to his advantage, as expected. His boss had been so thrilled with the ride, and after that, it was easy to talk him into making Baishunpu work. But there were some 'side effects' to the deal. Baishunpu wanted a ride, too, and he had to take her quite often, again hoping she'd fall off the massive motorbike.

Weeks had passed since he saw Reno do that, and the redhead scarcely came to visit him. It was unbearable, his silence, yet he endured it. He should have been satisfied with breaking Reno's spirit. It was torturing, instead.

Baishunpu's advances couldn't be refused anymore. They'd become frequent and more forceful. He, as a representative of his kind, had no right to reject her. He hadn't done it because he felt lonely, hurt, or betrayed, but simply to relieve himself. He couldn't even remember how they'd ended up in bed, but they surely didn't kiss, and her spread legs and his very active hips were enough for both of them. She'd called him virtuoso, a fierce animal, and laughed and screamed all along. He didn't see or hear anything. It was that kind of satisfaction that was not wanted. He was working fast in order to get rid of his arousal. His mind was always blank.

When he thought about the books read, stories told, it occurred to him that, if people knew what was happening between all of them, they'd come to conclusion he was doing this to forget Reno, to find consolation. But their presumptions and conclusions weren't correct. He was doing it because of the urge, and their intercourses weren't that frequent. His indifference regained its throne and he observed the event with Reno and Elena as something absurd for him to think about, and didn't even care enough to snort.

But it did feel satisfying when one of Reno's rare visits coincided with Baishunpu sleeping soundly in his bed. He was about to zip his pants when he heard the knock. It was a persistent one, the one giving out who the visitor was. He didn't want the Turk to see his shame. Baishunpu was a disgrace. The lowest of the low and he loathed her in his indifferent way. But the opportunity was so great, for the redhead to be flustered, so the silver haired man decided to respond to the persistent knocking.

No. He still didn't want him to see. Not ever, with anyone. He opened the door, thinking that they could talk outside, but Reno was, as always, too pushy, and today, surprisingly, too loud. Yazoo didn't object that much.

"I just came to check on you." Reno was in good humor today, apparently. Yazoo willingly stepped aside, quietly observing Reno's gaping face. "Whoa, whoa…" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were busy…Sorry…" He turned to leave, and the remnant didn't stop him. "I see you're doing heavenly!" Reno shouted across the yard. "That's good!" Thumbs up, and he left. Not a trace of jealousy in that remark, as if denying their months of being together in that same bed. As if nothing had happened. Yazoo decided it was good for Reno to think so, yet extremely odd. It was not right. Especially the misuse of one word.

* * *

TBC…?

1 Also a poem by Robert Frost; one of the previous chapters have the same title. For anyone who cares to read Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, here it is:

Whose woods these are I think I know.  
His house is in the village though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a farmhouse near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake  
To ask if there is some mistake.  
The only other sound's the sweep  
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.


	16. No Pain

**AN: It has been four months! I'm ashamed of myself! But writer's block does that to people…I sincerely apologize and I hope there's someone out there who still reads this…**

**What cured my writer's block? This song (I hope the site will show these Japanese characters): ****セブンティーン・ラブ ****(17****歳の想い****) by**鷺巣詩郎. It's a song from Genmu Senki Leda (Yohko Leda) OST.

Please do enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 16: No Pain**

He stood there for a while, naked, before the sleeping form of the redhead. Reno was sound asleep, lying on his back, innocently. No lights were needed because the street lights painted the room in tones of dark blue. Reno's hair was of that color, in the darkness. The remnant's intent gaze was fixed upon him; Yazoo's breathing was calm, heart at peace.

"You just go back there, and take them out." Reno had said. "Rescue them. The firefighters are on their way here. And others, too!" He had been urging him to do so. To go and save his boss and Baishunpu. He'd just stared at him, asking him coldly why. Reno had been enraged.

Reno shifted in his bed, but still remained on his back. Slowly, Yazoo went under the covers, placing his body over Reno's clothed one, and covered them both again. He propped himself up on the left elbow, gazing at the redhead's face, thinking how he, the beautiful Turk, could be anyone—a man with his family somewhere; with his parents and siblings, or an orphan. Reno was both cheerful and grim, always goofing around, always so lazy, yet at times, very serious and conscientious. The man who, for some strange, inexplicable reason, believed in him. Not in Yazoo's recovery, not in him being an obedient citizen, but only himself. Reno had told him once that being human didn't mean being good, because humans had inclinations toward evil, more often than good.

Mysterious red tattoos under his closed eyes, symmetrical. Thin lips that had instructed him:" They mustn't see me here! Go there, go!" And he'd gone into that smoke and that fire again, carrying, one by one, unconscious bodies of his landlord and his slutty daughter. People had seen Yazoo rescue those two, in his view, insignificant human beings.

He shifted a bit, finding a suitable position, and buried his face into the redhead's neck. He inhaled and exhaled, slowly, graciously, and dozed off. Reno's warmth was soothing. Chest to chest, hips to hips, he fell asleep in his half aroused state.

* * *

The fire destroyed his home, the butchery. That dirty old dilapidation could hardly stand against wind and rain, let alone fire. Yellow, red and orange flames reflected in Reno' eyes. He was there, just in time to see the disaster. As he moved closer, he saw Yazoo tumbling from the half-burnt down building. The remnant fell to his knees, dangerously coughing, but, as expected of him, recovered quite fast.

"Was this your doing?" Reno asked, in a reprimanding voice. As expected of everyone, the first thought that could come to their minds. The redhead was in panic. "Where are the others?" Yazoo shrugged, and threw a glance in the direction of the fire.

"Probably there."

"There? What do you mean, Yazoo?" Reno gripped his shoulders and started shaking him. After everything Yazoo had done to him, he was disappointed in Yazoo because of this? Because of such a petty thing? "Better hurry there and rescue them!" Did he care who had set the fire?

He looked toward the collapsing building and reluctantly stood up. He knew what Reno thought about what had happened. The remnant was indifferent to the building burning, people being trapped in there. It was his duty to repay his debt to Reno, who had done so many things that went to his advantage, who kept this project going, even though he had been ordered to provoke the silver haired man. He had been ordered to provoke Yazoo, yes, to tempt him to commit something, anything that could destroy his credibility, put him behind the bars, later to be executed.

It was Yazoo's dark little habit, to read Reno's mail when the redhead wasn't looking. He had read it long before the incident with Reno being kept in bed by force, lying on the shards of glass, urinating there on spot. The question had arisen back then and was still lingering; Reno should have done something ages ago, yet he was even at this present moment doing things that could only benefit his former lover. He knew full well that the redhead must not be seen; it could arise many a suspicion, many questions that wouldn't be hard to answer, that would not change anything, but he still wanted to avoid unnecessary attention.

He could hear the sirens approaching and Reno's anticipant, agitated eyes urged him to go and save them. And so he did. He slowly, gracefully approached the building, as if there was no urgent matter. The firefighters, the ambulance, and the police were there to witness him rescue Baishunpu and her father.

After the obligatory interrogation and medical care, the three of them were checked into the hotel nearby, until further notice. This would shut ShinRa's mouth for certain, he mused. But how would that affect Reno? Was it possible he wasn't angry anymore, if such a thing could be forgiven in a first place. Yazoo couldn't tell. He wondered if he was able to appreciate something so noble. Was that required from him? Could he provide? How could it be, someone so incomplete like him, deprived of his organs necessary for acts of mercy, incapable of doing anything to stimulate his brain and reciprocate.

Another thing that had been in his mind for quite some time was ever so quiet, but not inefficient Rude and his devices. In Yazoo's view, it was impossible to leave Reno unobserved. He wasn't acquainted with his habits before they'd started all of this, so he didn't know if Reno brought women home, spent many nights at other people's places, and so on. He was sometimes so easy to read, and he wondered, too, if the two of them shared secrets. There was something threatening in Rude's disposition, him being calm, collected, quiet; he who looked a little stupid, someone Reno could confide in.

Should he try to open Reno's eyes? Would he be grateful? Would he believe him? Was he worth it? He wondered, a decision forming in his mind, taking a strong grip around his shoulders, a sudden desire to tell and to hold. He checked the room for cameras and microphones, and finding none, he snuck out of the hotel with utmost care.

* * *

It was warm and quiet, but not comfortable. Reno tried to shift a bit, but couldn't, due to the weight on his body. And unidentified weight, who proved to be Yazoo, when he slowly opened his eyes, eyelids still heavy from sleep. The remnant was sleeping soundly, one of his hands was resting next to his ear, fingers tangled in his red ponytail; face buried in his neck. He was breathing calmly, but there was a frown on his face. Reno, although surprised by Yazoo's unexpected visit, still had time to conclude that Yazoo would wake up with a terrible pain in his neck.

He couldn't help but leave it be, leave his anger behind, because his senses were too numb, his brain too tired to process the law and moral, and everything related to it. Yazoo still came to him…naked. That was a bit surprising, as well, but it didn't stir arousal. It was warm and he could feel Yazoo's morning breath, but it was disgusting in a way he liked it and he didn't mind it either. He was patiently waiting for the remnant to wake up, looking at the ceiling with his big blue eyes.

Yazoo shifted a bit, consciousness not hitting him yet, but the pain in his neck couldn't be ignored. He slowly forced his eyes open, propping himself up on his left elbow just a little bit, frowning. Reno's face indicated that he was contemplating something, an air of melancholy radiating from his lips, nose, chin, forehead, and eyes. At that sight, Yazoo sighed. This all was taking toll on the redhead, who, it was obvious to both of them and probably people from Seventh Heaven, was forced into being emotionally involved with his protégé. There was no other explanation for Reno's actions, other than the fact that foolish humans put everything on the line whenever they were in love. But Reno's affections weren't very clear, he was highly ambivalent when it came to Yazoo and this sick relationship they had. No, it wasn't that it was sick. It wasn't. It wasn't complex, either. Maybe he was wrong all along, mistaking Reno's kindness for love or mere affection. He never knew what to expect to come from him next.

After the brief interrogation, Rufus ShinRa had decided for Yazoo to work nearer the downtown, in a bakery this time. He, that vicious man in power, had been quick enough to arrange it for him to start working there after the weekend. Upstairs, he would be given a bigger apartment. It was evident now what Rufus' objective had been all along: to gain more respect from his citizens, by punishing the remaining 'silver haired man', that terrible monster, that _villain_, that violent, ruthless _pedophile_, abductor of children, for his going on rampage, for him being _alive_. People, still not recovered from the yet another calamity, would be pleased to see him tortured to death, to put all the blame on him, and, as the inevitable consequence, worship Rufus and his corporation. It would help them forget what his greedy electric company had done. This was Rufus' time for 'atonement', and this was his way of atoning. It had been the sole reason why Reno had told him to go rescue those worthless people. He _knew_. He _disobeyed_. For his sake.

"This all has become a real drag, don't you think?" he asked in a coarse, sleepy voice, supporting his chin with his palm. Reno shifted his attention to him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hotel? You think people wouldn't notice or something?" he retorted harshly, anger coming from his chest in full blast, a deep frown forming on his face. He shifted a bit, hoping that Yazoo would move, which, fortunately, the silver haired man understood. The redhead sat on the edge of the bed, scratching his neck. "What is the meaning of this, Yazoo? You still think this is some kind of a game, yo?"

The remnant only yawned. He was getting tired of his inability to understand Reno's train of thought. It was possible that he was still mad because of their 'bedroom incident'. If so, why had he helped him? Why was he disobeying his superiors? For his sake? For him, who was so treacherous, rotten, and who had realized that the sole reason he had been spitted out of the Lifestream was Lifestream's severe mistake. He wasn't supposed to redeem himself. He never had any intention of doing so. He was he, Yazoo, the one who lived for combat, who lived in synchrony with his brother Loz, who moved about so naturally, guns being parts of his body. He never knew for mercy, pity, anything that people tended to mention so often in so many books, television shows, everyday communication. Those emotions that had been so worn out that they seemed ridiculous. He had been made incomplete and never felt guilty about it.

Seeing Reno's lack of enthusiasm, him being so easily crushed, was an ugly sight. He stood up and stretched in his naked glory, and headed toward the bathroom. He felt Reno's eyes slowly scan part by part of his body. There wasn't any longing in that look.

On Reno's part, he hoped his small arousal wouldn't develop further. Yazoo had the body of a healthy male, and there was nothing extraordinary about it. He was too pale, but not in the way it was ugly. He had seen Tseng's body, Rude's body, and ones of his subordinates, when taking showers together, in ShinRa's facilities. But still this one, the one that belonged to the remnant, was the only one that stirred arousal within him. He had never been close to Yazoo. But this time, it felt as if a cold wall appeared between them, something like a cold wind in an early winter morning. He felt lifeless this morning.

It was cold and clouds were obscuring the sky, the sun. Yazoo was emptying his bladder and had no intention, obviously, to close the door. He did everything agonizingly slowly, flushing the toilet, washing his hands, returning to the room. He didn't feel how cold the tiles were.

"Care to have some breakfast, yo?" Reno quietly asked. Rude was probably in the apartment, too, so he was keeping his voice down, Yazoo mused.

"I came here to tell you something." Yazoo informed him coldly. Reno was still in his sleepwear, still angry.

"What is it, yo?" he asked in the tone that indicated he wanted Yazoo to finish as soon as possible and leave. "What is all of this, you coming naked, being in my bed? Can something else be wrong with your head? Aren't you already insane the way you are?" he muttered darkly. "_People_ can see you."

"Your friend." Yazoo simply said, picking from the pile of clothes recklessly tossed something Reno had previously worn. This was the second time he saw his room, and it wasn't as neat as it had been when he first visited. This was not the materialization of Reno's state of mind, but rather the fact about his living habits. Yazoo smirked. "Beware of him. He is too quiet, observing every your motion. "

"What are you doing with my clothes, Yazoo? Why can't you leave already?" Reno hissed, stepping before him. His large eyes blinked in disbelief. "Why are you so crazy?"

Yazoo didn't avert his eyes. He tilted his head instead. "I thought you didn't mind." he said. "But that's beside the point. Check his computer when he's not here. Look for hidden files." he said seriously. Reno narrowed his eyes.

"How would you know he writes reports about me, huh? Have you seen anything? How would you know where _anyone_ should look?"

"You're all defensive for nothing. This was just a suggestion." Yazoo replied flatly. "I just wanted to return the favor."

"What favor? And since when do you have any sense of moral?" he narrowed his eyes a bit more. Yazoo's actions didn't follow any logic. He desperately wanted to drop it all, but he couldn't leave the job half-finished. Though it turned out he had taken the different course in entirety. He was shivering from cold.

Yazoo just smirked, putting his coat and boots on. "You're still in charge of me." he said. "Isn't that nice?" heavy sarcasm was lingering in his deep voice. Wordlessly, with Reno following him in disbelief, he snuck out of the apartment slowly, like a shadow, and disappeared into the darkness of the hall. It was still very early in the morning. Slowly closing the door behind him, Reno shrugged his shoulders and headed toward the kitchen.

* * *

Seriously, what could he do? When somebody plants the seed of doubt inside of you, nature does its job very well, indeed. He waited until Rude left and, as a professional, searched for cameras and microphones, and those small traps such as a hair put in the knob, or something similar to that. Having found none, he turned the computer on, set the computer to find hidden files with tags he typed in. And indeed, he found what Yazoo had been talking about. The files weren't encrypted, which meant Rude wasn't so bad after all. There was still some trust between them.

It was a sure thing, that the two of them had become estranged. No wonder he had his suspicions, then. Yazoo had told him that some time before for the first time, when he'd returned him home. Yazoo. Who 'returned the favor.'

Reno sighed, opened the first document, and read it to himself in a low voice.

"_The subject seems to be too engrossed in the work he is doing, and there are indications of him overstepping his boundaries. He described his 'befriending' with subject Yazoo as means of introducing him to society. However, I find it highly unnecessary. On occasions, the subject does not return home, as well. I am currently putting all my efforts into discovering what and why he is doing. The question is: is he covering for his protégé? However, I do not find the situation too urgent, so I'm submitting this suggestion: putting more workload on my subject in order to decrease his time spent with subject Yazoo…_". This was the gist of things. The following reports were more detailed, but none of them indicated that Rude had ever suspected they were romantically involved. That was a relief. On the other hand, Yazoo being right, and Rude's evident betrayal he had failed to see himself were making him more miserable than he already was.

He made copies of the reports, erased all the traces of the actions he had taken on Rude's computer, shut it down, left the room the way it had been, and decided it was time for a walk. The world outside seemed so soundless. People were passing by, but nobody talked. There was no wind. No sound of footsteps. He wasn't mad. He was calm now. He could do nothing about it but go with the flow. Either way, with Yazoo working in such an exposed place, both of them would be observed. It made the things easier. It made it less painful.

Yazoo had been breathing calmly in his arms, sleeping so soundly, albeit his neck hurt him afterwards. His body had been warm, he had the pulse, his hair had been tickling Reno's nose. It seemed that Yazoo had been comfortable in that position, freed of everything burdensome. It was soothing. There had been a small trace of contentment in the way he existed in Reno's room. His sleeping form.

* * *

**TBC…**

**AN: A little giveaway: Kadaj appears in the next chapter, so stay tuned! Reviews are always welcome!**


	17. God Called in Sick Today

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 17: God Called in Sick Today**

"_No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sinc__erity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning."__  
_— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

One can freely say that sorrow, that is, any degree of sorrow, especially one that is just a millimeter from becoming the beginning of depression, is some kind of illness, like any other. It affects us in such ways one finds hard to recover from it. It leads to a great truth—that, in fact, everything is pointless. Only then do people realize they're stuck in a limbo and that even if things turned the way they wanted, it would still be bad. Otherwise, they find no will to carry on, and they see their life as a chore. Sorrow isn't curable. But it can substantially subside. One is not aware of it again unless they summon a memory of the event that caused it. Sorrow is an incurable disease that people must learn to deal with. It's like rheumatism or diabetes, but on emotional level.

However, its effects can be manifested on our body as well. People tend to lose weight, lose their immunity, and so on. Sorrow is a very dangerous thing one can possibly have. If not treated properly, it can lead to early stages of depression. It does it in a way people become listless, cannot reverse what was done, and cannot move on as if nothing happened, for instance. They have no say in this.

It was like this for Reno. It came suddenly, with a realization that hit him, after so many months of contemplation. He realized it in one instant, and he felt like the point of a needle, which some people had carved the entire Bible into. So much information had been forced into his head and heart at once. This fragile truce with Yazoo, he wanted to preserve it with every ounce of his strength.

There was this strange strength within Yazoo, the aura he emitted, of security, of independence (something he couldn't go without now, without his siblings), stability. That was how Yazoo looked on the outside, a person who stood behind everything he did and everything he said; undisturbed by what life brought him. But on the inside, that much Reno knew, he was highly unstable, still calm and composed, but prone to abrupt actions that would benefit no one and that were potentially malicious. This still had to be proved, since Yazoo had done nothing wrong during the course of two years and a half that he had been here.

What the technicians had discovered and that was most likely the cause of the fire was this: Baishunpu's old man had fallen asleep with a cigarette in his mouth. Everybody seemed satisfied with this idea, since they weren't able to find any evidence that would put the blame on the 'suspect'. But Reno knew they wouldn't stop. Yazoo was now working in a bakery, which was located in a more populated area of the city, where more people he had wronged by summoning the Shadow Creepers, who devoured their loved ones.

People went there to buy whatever they wanted to buy, and they provoked him on daily bases. They unsuccessfully traded insults with him. However, Yazoo was smarter that Reno expected him to be. His impulsiveness was yet to be shown, but as the things were now, Yazoo never showed the slightest intention of doing anything rash and violent. He just did his job in utter silence, his eyes neutral, his face blank. That was good, Reno thought.

But what about him? His separation from Yazoo resulted in something Reno never expected to happen to him. Sure, sadness would prevail from time to time, but that was absolutely normal for anyone, including Rufus Shinra. However, this time, it lingered longer than it should. Slowly, but surely, he felt his senses were shutting down, one after another, the feelings altogether inexistent: fear, happiness, amusement, elatedness…All he could feel were sporadic fits of anxiety and melancholy, some kind of state that wasn't bipolar in itself, but seemed like it.

The worst was in the morning, when, after a long, long rest, he woke up to see the sun and the broad skies and went to the window, opening it wide, seeing laundry on the lines, between the buildings, mothers and children playing below (he was in the just-rebuilt neighborhood), and he breathed in deep, deep, the fresh morning air, thinking that, even though the world was a dark, dark place, he could manage it somehow. That it was only important to relax and stop over-thinking things, that something would come to save him, to relieve him. And that was when he felt at ease.

But then the afternoon ensued, then the evening; his mind a beehive of thoughts, ideas, presumptions and stupidity, that lead him to sudden realizations about his own stupidity, naivety, and death of the soul, that wasn't quite dead yet, but surely felt like it. The feeling wasn't pleasant in the least; whoever thought lack of emotions was bliss was wrong, because he saw his life through the eyes he thought weren't his, couldn't feel the smells of his surroundings, appreciate sounds, feel the wind on his skin, relate smells and odors to any memory. It was as though being dead and alive at the same time. His body felt numb, and indifference turned to anxiety and pain as soon as the sun set. When he realized he was all alone in that bed, where even he felt like being hugged and secure, even just for the briefest of moments. Man or woman, it didn't matter; all that mattered was warmth and good intentions, a soft, reassuring voice and silence, which he knew he wouldn't get.

He was too proud to cry, of course, as any other man who didn't use crying and self-pitying as his never failing tactics of seducing women, so his eyes remained dry yet a bit shiny and red. No traces in the morning, of course, when even waking up and, especially, _getting up_ seemed like a terrible, impossible chore to do, but he _had_ to, hell, he even _convinced_ himself that everything was just a' bunch of crap', and he stood up, dressed and washed his face every morning, and carried on with running his errands for Rufus.

He was a bit grateful for being kept occupied with other things, and being less around Yazoo. He was doing his best not to bring any of his bitterness into the business at hand, and he was working diligently, going to bed very late, when he felt exhausted, but to no avail, for, whenever he stopped with all his daily and nocturnal activities, his thoughts drifted toward Yazoo and the feelings he had developed for him.

Strange thing it was, his love. Now that he finally put the finger on what it was. Disillusioned about the whole thing, he only wished for some tranquility, some isolated place where he could annul his existence and exist at the same time; he was longing for some purification, for he could not see through Yazoo and he loved him, loved him for his antics, for his witticisms and (in)stability, the shape of his eyes and his body. He had become so dear to him he choked on his saliva whenever they hugged in the past, just before the hideous thing Yazoo'd done to him. His throat would close and the tears would well up sometimes.

But on his regular days, he was the same old Reno, calm, yet prone to outbursts of anger, serious, sarcastic, with tremendous sense of humor, smart and stupid, that kind of man that liked to goof around, all of that without really pretending he was fine. He was feeling fine whenever he wasn't thinking. Whenever he was keeping himself occupied.

But fate liked to do certain things to people. It was beginning to snow. The air cooled down, the flakes started falling. Falling slowly on his eyelids, he enjoyed their soft, wet touch. He felt terribly lonely in this entire world, when he felt the vastness of it in the cold winter air. The snowflakes were filling up the space, but he was still very positive he was all alone, without anyone or anything to rely on. For, even if Rude hadn't been working behind his back, he could never say a word or ask for advice. One thing he knew: all people could say would be that he had to let it go and that it was pretty fucked up. That much he knew himself. Nobody could magically give him the solution to all his problems.

Sometimes it was pretty difficult to breathe, as well.

So, in all his loneliness, he smirked and headed to the bakery, where Yazoo was diligently working. There were still some people who liked to offend him, but, in general, the citizens regarded him as a hero. Reno had made him a week ago accept the prize when he won the race, and give it to his former landlord, so that he could start his business once again and have a roof over his head. Yazoo had done this reluctantly, but couldn't hide the satisfaction at the outcome and admit that this idea of Reno's was actually pretty good.

"I thought we could take Marlene and Denzel for a snowball fight. We can invite some children from their neighborhood as well." Reno said, leaned against the doorframe.

* * *

And so it was. They went to the wide field near the growing young trees that would make up some nice forest in the future, if ShinRa Company let them. They split up into two teams, Reno and Yazoo being team leaders of each of them, respectively. But soon the picture of two adults playing with children became too ugly for Reno to continue playing, seeing how Yazoo taught them, in such a short period of time, some military formations. He commanded them with his gestures only, and they, as if in trance, understood everything he had to tell them with motions of his arms and head. That was when he stopped the 'war' and told the children to play a snowman or do whatever else they wanted with snow.

There, in the snowy wasteland, they took the stroll among the young trees, being barely secluded, and watched the children play in the field full of white. A strange silence fell upon them; there was no wind. It was calm and nice, just standing like that. And then the fate decided to give him a bit of happiness, if only fleeting, for it felt his loneliness was genuine. He was being desolate.

Yazoo turned his head toward him and approached him slowly, planting a brief kiss on his lips, something that could be called another stem of sorrow. Who said it was a good thing, this development?

When they returned the children, they were awaited by slightly nervous Cloud, who took them to the backyard.

* * *

From that day onward, things started running out of control. Violent sexual intercourses started taking place in Yazoo's room whenever they deemed it was safe enough for Reno to stay over. His libido was incredible; he was insatiable when it came to servicing Yazoo, and Yazoo was enjoying and encouraging all of it with sporadic statements that clearly signified his lack of desire for them to become a couple again. In a very quick, but spontaneous way, Reno was being reminded of how he actually enjoyed giving Yazoo pleasure, through his own pain if necessary, and how up until now he didn't know it himself. He was aware of the fact that he was reducing himself to a sexual object and nothing more than that; just a mere fuck buddy for Yazoo and he couldn't help it, for, despite not feeling warm in his arms, never feeling loved or dear, important to him, he had feelings for Yazoo.

Everything happened so abruptly and he was aware of his decadence, his degradation into something he never thought he would become and slowly but surely, he was feeling worse. Especially now when he reflected on what had happened the week before:

Kadaj in Cloud's backyard. On his shiny motorbike, slim and athletic, eyes reflecting insanity and melancholy. He approached his brother, hissing angrily in his ear, whereas Yazoo retorted in a calm whisper and he saw Kadaj's shoulders relax a bit, and Reno saw that those two understood each other better than anyone else and that nobody should interfere. The way they talked, the way Yazoo could calm him and stop his fits of hysteria. Like one organism. Perfect for each other. He felt a pang in his chest, fury and jealousy, but still kept on his small talk with Cloud and be nonchalant.

The realization that Yazoo would be leaving soon, probably to teach some children Kadaj had probably gathered/kidnapped some marksmanship or something similar, the fact that he was about to _leave_, for good, choose sides and stop being part of his life (even though he knew all along this was inevitable and that Yazoo would just behave the way he 'should' for the three years just to show ShinRaCompany how stupid they were and to prove himself to his beautiful little brother), was of no help to him either.

Even still, he was preparing to ask Yazoo something personal, to defect from his way of the professional.

"Yazoo, who exactly do you see me as?"

* * *

TBC…?

I apologize if it seemed rushed and if Kadaj wasn't as present as I wanted him to be, but I've been through a lot recently and I forgot the entire conversation between him and Yazoo I had had in mind. *sweatdrop* But I promise that I'll explain how come he's in Cloud's backyard in the next chapter. This chapter is one of the final ones. Thank you for reading! :)


	18. Cruelty

**AN: **As promised, the explanation of Kadaj being at Cloud's. This is the turning point of the story. Please do enjoy it! ^^

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 18: Cruelty**

"My, my, dear brother", with 'brother' said in great irony and bitterness, as he dismounted his bike and approached Yazoo, in the backyard of Nii-san's home. "Treacherous, horrible, so horrible, makes me feel all alone…" he purred, approaching his kin. Yazoo readily stood there, waiting for Kadaj's lips to touch his ear, his face brushing against Yazoo's long hair, bodies not touching. He murmured something into his ear, that could have passed as, "We missed you so much; you're making this really hard for us…" in a trembling, frustrated voice of an insane man; almost conspiratorial whisper that made Reno wince at their proximity.

But then, reassuringly, Yazoo whispered back that he had been informed about their plan and that he would join when the time came. Reno couldn't hear this, but, even though Yazoo could never be completely understood and grasped as an entity, he assumed this was what he whispered back. It must have been it, he thought. Kadaj reached up and tangled his fingers in his hair. "Nii-san and I…met by chance. " he said quietly. "He led me to Sephiroth. In the end, I couldn't see him as one of us…Of us being part of him…He completely shut down!" Kadaj nodded his head, but in disapproval, his unique gesture. Then he stepped back, walking in circles.

" So disappointing…Going through all that trouble becoming someone who once used to be lethal…What will become of this planet now?" he mourned, "There is no hope at all, to be complete, not lonely anymore…this corrupted world…this…" he faltered. "Nii-san's heart couldn't mend it, his void, his apathy. His heart is bleeding, yet it's at peace." Kadaj faltered, casting a glance in Cloud's direction. He was sitting with Reno on the bench, monitoring their actions. Kadaj wasn't coherent in his speech, but was comprehensible.

The air of mutual understanding fell upon the two warriors and Reno watched them with envy, as Yazoo slightly nodded, holding Kadaj's gaze, gently, like falling snow, caringly. His missing comrade. The one who understands without words uttered. The _tamer_.

"Well, boys, no talky-talky anymore! Time's up!" Reno stood up, clasping his hands. "Cloud promised not to say anything about you, pretty brother, yo, but you must be good, too." he crossed his arms and spread his legs, waiting for his protégé to follow him. Yazoo looked at him blankly, but obeyed, turning once more toward Kadaj, as if to finish some sentence, only by looking at him, and then swung gracefully to Reno's side. Even then, the redhead felt restless. He felt kind of…chipped.

* * *

He cupped his cup of steaming black coffee with his palms, trying to keep them warm. It was, apparently, winter outside; the Planet had decided on it some days ago, randomly it seemed. There was nothing better than a cup of strong black coffee in the morning, even though it wasn't quite his habit to drink coffee in the morning, or, it should be said, he never liked drinking it. It was bitter, and sugar and milk were of little help, and not to mention that your teeth go yellow over the course of time.

The cup was steaming, and he was mesmerized by the darkness of the liquid, too much deep in thought to actually see it. That question, he never actually asked Yazoo what they were, out of fear he would get nothing the next time, not even an ounce of affection…if it could be called so, anyway. Each time Yazoo was finished with him, or he with Yazoo, he would get upset, for there was nothing beyond idle talk and sex. There was nothing else and there would be nothing else. His mind was clouded and his demeanor significantly different than a year ago. Everything had changed for worse. He was still managing to keep it up, the good work, his friendly, cheerful behavior around others, but in return, he would spend nights in half-sleep, reality mixing with dreams, he himself narrator of the story unfolding before his eyes, as if in some movie.

It always left him exhausted and confused. They were some random dreams, or rather, stories, of other people and places, both fantastic and ordinary, but jumbled, as dreams tend to be like that. Or rather, everything resembled a mild case of hallucination. His body ached for sleep, but sleep never came in entirety, his night rest never quite complete, just as Yazoo's and his love was never complete; there were always some margins left, circle never closed, but it in itself encompassed with guilt. Incompletion and guilt, _shame_. Every time he got back to his apartment complex, he was taking time thinking about his own identity, how he was, in the eyes of the one he loved, perceived as nothing now but a mere sex friend. But sometimes, barely, he could see a glimpse of Yazoo's kindness, that is, the remnant's version of said one.

What could be said about Reno was that he was a stable person. But these days everything seemed out of order, his train of thought, his flawed hope, that something would happen. He had let himself get involved too deeply for the sake of helping his former nemesis, all because he believed in reform and recovery. Reform and recovery being new goals of ShinRa corporation, it had seemed, until recently. All ShinRa Company wanted was, in fact, to be forgiven and to regain trust of the citizens, for the project SOLDIER didn't exist anymore, and the Turks just weren't powerful enough to handle everything by themselves. The Turks were meant to be the silent workers: tax collectors in the slums, assassins, errand boys or girls. Nothing as glorious as SOLDIER. After regaining the trust of the mob, they could go back to their old ways, destroying what little was left of this pathetic rock with some turquoise matter that floated around, carrying the soul of the dead, occasionally allowing rebirth of some of them.

Crushed ideals, ones that used to be his guidelines, that had led him astray, when he summarized his pathetic almost-three-years of constant struggle to bring some good into Yazoo's life, only to learn that he had been manipulated all the way, without realizing it. Pain of it all, the burden to his heart; jealousy, fear, anxiety, and apathy; resentment and cynicism.

He put the chewing gum into his mouth, and almost purred when the flavor of mint enveloped his palate and tongue. People do that to eliminate odor from their oral cavities, but he did it for the sake of keeping himself occupied. Besides, he liked the taste of gum, and he liked blowing bubbles. It was just the coincidence that he was on his way to Yazoo's. He was thinking about that, and how he was sometimes too innocent, considering his age and sex.

It was strange how he didn't enjoy sex anymore and how he did it for the sake of keeping some warmth, enjoying some touch and caress in the process, enduring horrible pain (now trained not to give out he was in pain; his muscles never convulsed and he didn't cry out loud. The body just took that pain naturally, every time). He reflected upon his former self and how he thought about kissing when he was much younger. When he would go for months without any contact whatsoever, and that it was a great event when he kissed for the first time in so long. But now nothing mattered. Days, weeks, months would pass, and he would await the kisses with indifference, for he had learned that they tasted like nothing.

Porn never excited him anymore, and he was somewhat worried about his (im)potence. Not that he was really impotent, but the sensation he got wasn't as intense as before; actually, it was nothing, because, after giving it a thought, it meant nothing. He didn't need _it_, but _that_. No climax, no point, no meaning. Just some wrestling and pleasuring Yazoo, for he felt kind of aroused and happy when seeing him writhe in joy. But that was about it. Nothing splendid anymore. Just a sheer indifference; he felt like sobbing every time.

Yazoo opened the door for him; they exchanged looks of playful rivalry and antagonism, as he entered. This time he felt numb, not expecting much from anything. It would just repeat itself if he let it be. Tonight he just wanted to spend some time with the remnant, a quiet evening just talking and perhaps drinking something.

There was a lot going on in his mind. Sephiroth might be alive. Actually, that was not a possibility, but a _fact_, written all over Cloud's guilty face. The remnants were preparing an army of young mercenaries. That wasn't what Reno had actually planned to happen in the end, but in some way he had successfully fulfilled his task. Yazoo hadn't done anything wrong during these three years. His primary task of making him a normal human being might have failed, but not in entirety. Yazoo had had epiphany about who he was and that it was just a mistake on Lifestream's part for letting them be alive again and do as they pleased. The fact that no one would thank him for anything. The feeling that he had wasted his time and a part of his youth (three years!), and that nothing changed for better, on a larger scale. Disillusionment with friendships, relationships, ideals, workplace. So many revelations. So many defeating ones. And the fact that _he _would disappear from his life. That he would be gone. Never his. It felt like centuries in the darkest flames of hell. But it was just three years.

They were sitting quietly on the couch, listening to the music on Yazoo's laptop. It was Reno who had brought it, to cheer them up, some classical piece that was supposed to calm your nerves and all.

"Say, Yazoo" started Reno, "Do you ever think you could meet with Sephiroth? Were you even aware of his presence back then, before the 'reunion'?" The remnant thought for a while, Reno's expectant gaze fixed upon him. The silver haired youth was thinking about the past, when he had known Mother was very important, that they had to find her; it was an _urge_, it had to be fulfilled. He had been carrying out his duties as best as he could, even when fighting those who weren't so important at all. People whom Kadaj defeated with one motion of his hand, yet he and Loz took so much pleasure and had so much fun fighting them too.

Perhaps, for a period of time, he had considered it a game, a fun game, a play of tag for big boys, the highway chase, all that shooting, all that sadism and masochism in battle. His manic laughter. He could have shot Reno dead in that chopper if he wanted to. No, it hadn't been hatred though the blows had been exchanged. They were just playing their roles and enjoying the showdown. For a moment, he had forgotten his goal altogether. Perhaps that was the reason Kadaj had reunited with Mother without them. They had gotten a bit carried away, not thinking clearly anymore about priorities, while distracting Cloud from reaching Kadaj, and still finding some time to engage in battle with the Turks. During all of this, he had never wondered what the 'reunion' really meant.

"Why would I want that?" he asked.

"Because you were supposed to become Sephiroth, together with your peers." Reno replied simply. Sometimes, trying to lead conversations like these, more serious than bickering and small talk was peculiar. He didn't know what exactly he wanted Reno to do. Words got stuck in his throat because even though Reno's question was simple, the answer simpler, he found it hard to express himself.

"Oh well. That's just how it is, I suppose." He replied, hoping this would end their conversation. Reno never said anything, and he expected him to demand further, until he was fully satisfied. No such thing occurred. It seemed that something was wavering within Reno for quite some time now.

"Look, I don't think I can carry on like this." Reno said. "I thought I could, but I can't, because I'm not like that. Especially not when it comes to you." This might have looked like a confession, but it wasn't it. The silence they shared between Yazoo's refusal to answer the question and Reno's utterance was lingering like mammatus clouds announcing tornadoes (sometimes they tended to just linger in the sky, not announcing anything. Mammatus-the clouds that looked like huge tits or bags full of tears, yet never did the rain fall from them, Reno mused). Reno had this urge for quite some time, but there was no use planning what and when to say it. He had to make it clear that he still had the heart and that they used to date (though in a peculiar way), and that there was no way he could allow to be viewed as a humble, easy lay. In this regard, he behaved like a girl, perhaps, but even men had some dignity to preserve. Sex, although a trivial matter to them, rarely, but sometimes held some meaning.

Yazoo's face remained unchanged. The redhead floated above his own body, unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. This undefined utterance meant exactly what, besides defending his dignity? What else could he and Yazoo possibly do? Yazoo certainly seemed like he didn't want it. He thought they had a tacit agreement, Reno mused, that they should just sleep together.

The remnant then chuckled and snorted, saying, " Haha, never would have expected something like this from a lewd boy like you." with catastrophic undertone of irony in his deep voice. Which included images of their naked bodies and exquisite fellatios, as Reno's first and foremost expertise. On his own insistence, mostly. It meant nothing but a routine for him, drained and disinterested now, in all of that, doing it only for Yazoo's sake, not for his own pleasure anymore.

That was pretty low, but expected of Yazoo. Somehow, their 'tacit agreement' seemed more tangible, as it crumbled right now. The Turk was thinking what to say in his defense, but alas, he couldn't think of anything useful, hot emotions reminding him to defend his pride on instinct rather than using tactics.

"Well, that's how it is. Not that you would miss it much or anything, since lewdness is not strange to you either. If you don't like it, that's your own problem, yo." he said it, managing to add to his face the 'can't help it' look, stood up slowly, and left him with words, "I guess I'll see you round, yo." and left bravely.

* * *

TBC…?


	19. Crushing Yazoo

**AN:** It's been a long time, I apologize! I graduated from university in the meantime, so yeah. And I had a huge writer's block. But, my good friend Kai-chan made this beautiful wallpaper for my story, which you can find if you follow this link:phoenicanwaters. deviantart .co art / Hitori-Futari-Gift-for-Yaoiflame-326533265 (just delete space where needed)

She gave me the much needed inspiration, that is, unblocked me!

This story will have another three chapters, in my opinion, and that'd be the end. Chapter 19 has a guest appearance of Cloud, and I think you'll like it. Perhaps it will play a major role in the chapters to come, but we'll see. There's a bit of profanity, but nothing 'oh my God so vulgar', so no worries! Also, it's a bit OOC, but I might be easily wrong.

Enough of my ranting! Enjoy yourselves and please do leave a comment!

* * *

**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 19: Crushing Yazoo**

"Sometimes, when I think about what I'm doing and its contradiction with what I actually intend to do, I contemplate death. Because there is no cure for stupidity like mine. There's no end to one's stupidity. Now you must be wondering why I'm doing it. Well, no, you don't. " he paused for a second, then continued. "But I'll tell you anyway, yo. You're the last person I want to confess to, but I really have no choice, do I? I've got no one to turn to…You see, I befriended wonderful people. And they approved of my doings. I could see it in Tifa's demeanor, for instance. But somehow, I'm afraid I'd get disapproval from all of them if they knew all of it. How utterly stupid I am. "

Cloud was listening carefully, although, at first, reluctant to even accept taking Reno to his room for a talk. For one who always seemed cheerful and who knew how to handle various kinds of situations, this time, he seemed listless. His eyes were threatening to produce some fine tears any moment, yet his voice never wavered and he maintained the steady tone of it. Cloud could see as much, that it had taken the redhead a lot of courage and time to gather up everything he wanted to say and choose someone to listen to his words. His shoulders slumped, his gaze bland, as he was sitting on the windowsill; one foot on the floor, other bent on the windowsill, his elbow resting loosely on the knee. One couldn't say where he was looking exactly; at the brown roof beams, or outside in general direction of the people. He now had the full attention of once cynical and hostile Cloud. The blond postponed the question he wanted to ask: why in all hells was Reno telling him all this?!

"I'm in love. That's why I'm putting up with his crap. I told him we'd stop, but we continued it anyway. I, who love him, and he, whom I entertain, yo. There's no love on his part, just vague fondness, perhaps. That much he needs in order to put up with me, I think. 'Cause I'm not as nice to handle as people think. There's this possibility also, that I got some disease from him, fresh little germ from yesterday, why not? I pretty much fucked up my life, didn't I?" Reno sighed, vaguely casting a glance in Cloud's general direction. "It was not supposed to be like this at all. _He_ came to _me_. _He_ seduced _me_. It was he who insisted on us being together. It was he who did horrible things that led to our separation. And I, _I_ lost the track of what I was actually supposed to do. To keep an eye on him, make something out of him, as his supervisor…I don't get how I let it all get out of control…"

There was a long silence before any of them spoke again. Cloud was processing everything Reno had told him. He could have never imagined the degree to which Reno was involved with Yazoo. But he definitely wasn't involved _in_ his recent doings, which led to some optimism, at least. He debated in his mind whether he should tell the redhead about what the brothers were planning to do. The blond sighed audibly, avoiding eye contact with the Turk.

"Well, I never thought something like this would come out of your mouth." he began, "And to develop to that extent. " Reno nodded his head.

"I know, pal, I know" he confirmed in a warmer tone of voice, which, once again, wasn't very appropriate in Cloud's opinion. But then again, perhaps Reno perceived him as a friend of sorts; therefore he behaved in such a manner, whereas there were no such feelings on his part.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Cloud asked coldly, shrugging his shoulders. He still didn't understand his role in it, and could only offer one solution to it all, under full discretion, of course.

"I have a major question to ask." Reno said, locking their eyes. "How can I fix my mistake? How can I turn him in? Should I report him or not? Should I frame him for something? He's been granted citizenship, alright, but I know my boss didn't like it one bit. That bastard played his cards right, he even saved some people…Still I don't like the meetings the two of us arrange for him and Kadaj.

"I know there is something going on. I hate those whisperings of theirs. I really do. They make me uncomfortable."

However he looked at it, he found jealousy in every word Reno had spoken. Though a bit on a goofy side, he was still very clever, and Cloud could not help but wonder whether Reno had omitted something by chance. Had he not seen the brothers were plotting something? And why being jealous of two brothers?

Reno's face was same as always, but his eyes were glassier than usual. Some painful process was happening deep inside his skull, a lot of sleepless nights spent over the desk, head in hands, hours of contemplation, with no solution, most likely due to his feelings for Yazoo, the blond was certain of it. Cloud wondered, concern forming just slightly in his being, whether this man before him would be able to commit something atrocious to the man he loved, were he to tell him where the brothers had built their base and trained young men to become their army of mercenaries. Though they would become mercenaries, they wouldn't be independent because the three men were supposed to be their superiors, their commanders. They were to take orders from them…Kadaj had brought him to that place once, putting all the trust—a fatal mistake, but the man felt lonesome, that deranged youth Kadaj—into him, and didn't put a blindfold on his eyes, just took him there and told him their plans. The remaining two had been absent at that time.

They had been walking among the white trees; Kadaj was talking like a man who had a vision of a bright future, a brave new world with his army of stealthy young men, making a plight throughout the continent. This was his vision of the new world order, all for the unnamed purpose, the justification of their existence. It all seemed absurd in a way, but, actually, made sense. They couldn't live any other kind of life, like ghosts of their former selves, without anything to guide them, so they wanted to be paid to destroy (the closest they could get to being original selves).

Like two brothers or lovers courting each other, they walked, Kadaj theatrically talking, but still in a quiet manner, Cloud nodding his head in confirmation.

"Was I too naïve to believe in his goals? But he seemed seriously determined to be…well, something the majority labels as normal. Like something generic." Reno startled him from his thoughts. "Was I too optimistic about it? Too eager to make him my project?" the redhead despaired quietly.

Cloud was troubled. Through the layers of mist, he was finally beginning to see why Tifa'd befriended the Turk. A man who fought for his ideal, believing he was doing good for all the others—even if it meant assassinating people in the process—or, rather, for his company. He was a loyal man, a visionary of sorts. He was a good man, in his own way, but was definitely better than most. He was who he was, his goofy demeanor wasn't his mask, it was just a part of him, though people rarely got the opportunity to see his concerned side. Perhaps he was being considerate to others and manifested it less (or, which was most likely, he had to stay that way in order to perform his job), but all in all, he was a slacker who worked, a friend who took good care of his foes, endlessly loyal and honest with everyone (mostly). Cloud realized it was high time he forgot about the past because no one was taking sides now. There was no need to continue with that good old antagonism…It appeared everyone had realized it before him. At this moment, Reno seemed dejected, and, just by looking, one could see this was one of the rare moments when he was forced to ask for directions.

With every passing moment, Cloud was warming up to Reno's serious side, the side that suited him most, since their personalities always clashed, and this was the only time when they overlapped.

"Perhaps you were, but there's no point crying over it, Reno. " Cloud quietly offered. "People make mistakes, and it was your time to make one, that's all."

"You make it sound so simple." Reno smirked, his face a bit relaxed. "But I guess I'm not a stone like you, my friend. I won't hesitate! I know you sleep with Sephiroth. How can you live with the fact that he's here?" He narrowed his eyes in question. Cloud looked aside, ashamed and embarrassed. And a bit angry. "How can you be so calm about it?"

"He represents no threat, I assure you. His pride is shattered; he's lost like the three of them. Kadaj was very disappointed upon seeing him."

"So they won't side with each other, I presume." Reno touched his lips, looking at the ceiling while calculating. "I hope you can guarantee that." he looked at the blond. "I just don't know how you can be so friendly with Kadaj. Does your mercy reach that far, yo? "Killing him and holding him in your arms until he died (dissolved into Lifestream)…

"It's none of my business what any of you people do!" Cloud hissed. "I'm done with all these things. I've had enough of it all. I never, never wanted any of this!" for the first time in so long, he spoke his mind with sincerity. It was strange how it all had begun with a romantic note to it—to become a SOLDIER to impress Tifa—only to end this way, through carnal hatred, great many deaths, betrayals, revivals, new allegiances, consolation sex with the enemy, profound conversations with a disliked person, caring for a villainous young man…Losing and forgetting Tifa in the process… It never went the way he wanted. Did it make sense? Reno was not being Reno at all. He was being desperate, too.

"What do I do, Cloud? I thought you may know something since you're so close to the brat." and there it was, after such a long digression, finally, the reason Reno had addressed him in a first place. All he wanted now was for Reno to leave, so he leaped over to him and told him their intentions, their whereabouts, armament, all he could remember, in a solemn, quiet voice. The only thing he required was for Reno not to give him out, which the redhead promised.

"I see you're still fond of the kid." he said.

"Well, I guess I am."Cloud admitted, his features softening. "He always reached for me." Even though in a deadly clinch, Cloud had always been a point of reference to Kadaj, some sort of a twisted version of a role model. And Cloud, though partly involuntarily, reciprocated even today. "However, what his destiny is from then onwards is beyond my reach. Whether Shinra kills him or not is none of my concern." he said.

"I guess that's how it is supposed to be, yo." Reno patted his shoulder. "It just must be done."

Cloud knew ShinRa Company too well to not see disillusionment in Reno's behavior and phrasing his sentences. But the man persisted. In the end, he was forced to see Reno as the ultimate light against the overwhelming darkness in the days to come. One crushed spirit among the strongest ones, a strong man and a strong personality still stood like Midgar's ruins, stoically.

* * *

In the following days, whenever Reno came, Cloud perceived him in a different way, having added all the new layers he'd discovered that day in his room. Now the Turk seemed more comprehensible, more complete, and sadder than ever. But Tifa was just laughing it all off, and was oblivious to his inner turmoil. They appeared the best of friends, and Cloud further wondered what had become of them all.

He, who once loved Tifa tremendously, was torn between his newfound emotions. Homoeroticism with Sephiroth that one time, vague feelings of brotherhood and homoromanticism with Kadaj, his wavering feelings about Reno, putting all of his characteristics on the scales all the time, calculating and pondering. Was it that way with all the 'heroes' Reno read about? Was it like this with all the warriors, all the former nemeses? Was it like that in real life? Because life, for sure, was going to go crazy once again.

After that day, Reno was behaving light-heartedly as always, never initiating anything that would sound serious or profound. His plan was to follow Yazoo one day and 'accidentally' discover their hideout. They would discover him and imprison him, but with some luck, Kadaj would keep him outside, to boast about his small kingdom, to show off everything he had. ShinRa's men would be at the safe distance, so as not to be noticed. Reno would give a subtle signal and they would be surrounded and captured. Everything was to be recorded, for the public to see. That would be their warrant.

It sounded very simple, but the variables were, of course, present. To Reno, it didn't matter anymore, as long as he got to see Yazoo for that last time. He was feeling nervous a bit, but sobered up by all what Yazoo had done to him in the past. He trained his emotions like a professional, so as not to fail. He was hoping for the best results, in ShinRa's interest, for, of course, for he had sold his soul to them first.

Since his 'grand project' failed miserably in his eyes (due to personal issues, obviously), and didn't satisfy ShinRa (off the record) because it was actually an official 'success' (Yazoo was fulfilling a generic pattern of social interaction), this new enterprise would be more to their liking, and if they captured the three (_all_ of the remnants, mind you), he would be hailed a hero, and he was aiming for promotion anyways. Shallow reasons of the career-makers. On the inside, who cares to take a peek? Not him. All was prepared for this. He was to leave in circa five days, whenever Yazoo was in town and ready to (secretly) head to his hideout. Rufus seemed satisfied to no extent, praising Reno silently.

* * *

The Turk felt obliged to say something in gratitude to the silent contributor to their grand mission. He asked Cloud, during one visit of his, to go upstairs for a talk. Particles of dust were illuminated by the pleasant sunrays. They were fluttering slowly and falling to the wooden floor. Cloud had one window and a single bed in his room, of brown color, just like the dresser in the corner. Cloud's hair was shimmering in the sunlight. He looked paler, and his eyes transparent because of light. Reno was but a silhouette when looked at from the corner. The two tall figures faced each other.

"Just wanted to say my thanks, yo. I may have said too much for the purpose of my previous visit, but what the heck." his voice was steady, flat, a bit official despite the usage of slang here and there.

"What time do you start?" Cloud asked.

"In three days, if Yazoo comes out then, I guess. Later, if we have to."

"Must be hard for you."

"Not really, no." Reno said. "It was bound to happen eventually. Everything about Yazoo was pointless from the start, anyways. I'm three years older now; I see my mistakes clearly, yo. Should've reported him then and there."

"Should have." Cloud confirmed. "But you didn't. Like me, didn't report anyone. Absurd."

"Yeah, pretty much."

Silence ensued. Both men were looking aside, in deep thought, it seemed.

"Well" Reno broke the silence, "I'm off then." he was about to wave his hand, but Cloud made a step forward and began examining his face with his large blue eyes. As if charmed, he was unaware of what he was doing, and his hands cupped the Turk's face. What a precious jewel he had in his hands! He gasped, awed, at the strength of this man who rejected his inner life like a snake its skin.

"My brain is messed up." he whispered. Whereas Reno had this tremendous willpower, that thing that led him along, he, Cloud, had only his messed up brain to guide him. He was a bit jealous.

"I can see as much." Reno replied, but did not move. "What's with this gay shit anyway? Do you intend to fuck every person whose ass you kicked, yo? Is it contagious, being like this?" but Cloud offered no reply to his nervous mumbling. He pulled his lids half down, brushing their noses gently, before leaning in for a kiss. Reno was pushed into a corner, but was not surprised. In this decadent world, everything had at least a slight chance of happening. Cloud kissed him deeply from the start, but very gently, very carefully, almost becoming ethereal. But when he, to his utmost embarrassment, realized what he had done, he couldn't face the redhead anymore. Instead, he shut his eyes tightly, and kissed more passionately.

There was one prevailing thought in Reno's clouded mind—'How do I face Yazoo?' but he never stopped Cloud, who broke the kiss. Having his breathing calmed, he observed the face of an adult, who could pass as a big kid, with the innocent expression on his face, big, expectant child-like eyes. "What's going on, yo?" he demanded. "What's gotten into you?" All he could hear was Cloud's ragged breathing. "Look, " Reno pushed him gently away, "Just because you slept with Sephiroth doesn't mean you have to do it with every former enemy, now does it?" if he wanted to humiliate the blond, he didn't succeed in doing so.

"No, that's not it." Cloud said, avoiding his look, being too shy and wanting to hide his apprehensive one.

"Should've done all on my own, not asking you for anything, yo. I messed you up." the redhead said. "Sorry about that, yo." his face was sympathetic. "Never meant to lead you on."

"You didn't." the blond retorted. Reno offered him a sheepish smile, while scratching the back of his neck. The situation didn't seem awkward at all. This kind of quiet talking seemed tender to the ears. "But I wouldn't mind if you stayed a bit longer."

"I don't think that's wise." There was a sudden vision of Reno reprimanding him for giving up on pursuing the kidnappers of Denzel and Marlene, all serious, threatening, angry and disappointed like a parent.

Cloud's pouting face was something sweetest Reno had ever seen. Though three years older and that much wiser, his face remained the same. The blond wasn't aware of making such face, apparently. "People downstairs can hear us. You have three children playing in the house, Cloud." The Turk pointed out. But he knew that this was an invalid argument in anyone's opinion.

He wasn't sure how it happened and who started it, but they made love that day. The day was at its end, the room in shadows when they started it. Cloud was very bold in bed, he had to admit. All the while, he was observing his determined, serious face, his piercing look, that scanned his own face, exhaling warm air onto it, as quietly as possible. It was remarkable, very enjoyable, frantic lovemaking that didn't leave anything but smell of the intercourse and quantities of sweat, no creaking of the mattress at all. And all the while, despite being highly ecstatic, Reno's thoughts were coming back to the burning question—'How do I face Yazoo after this?' But they weren't together anymore. Caring so much about ethics, especially regarding love affairs, wasn't his expertise, not to this extent, at least.

It had already started, as Cloud feared. There was something off about Reno for a long time. He was present, he was enjoying what was given to him, even his thoughts were with him most of the time, but he seemed like having been shut down, all the systems down. Cloud knew it for he had experienced it himself, seeing your life as if through other people's eyes. Becoming indifferent to everything.

"I fucked you up." Reno said afterwards. Only then did they realize how lucky they were for no one had walked in on them.

"Do you really deem me that soft?"

"Yeah, you're right." Reno smiled. "You fucked yourself up a long time ago." He patted his shoulder, checked his hair in the mirror, waiting for the blond to get dressed so that they could go downstairs. The battle of Reno's life was about to take place in several days, and both of them were eager to know the outcome.

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**AN:** I think there will be another two or three chapters before the end. I hope you guys liked it!


	20. Small Things

**AN: ** Finally, after an entire year(!) have I posted this… I sincerely apologize for such a delay! But I had a serious writer's block and words simply refused to flow, even though the idea was there all along…Anyhow, I hope you will enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading!

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**Hitori, Futari**

**Chapter 20: Small Things**

If only he could recreate that moment of happiness from years before. The story went like this:

It was that, it could be said, 'golden' time of their relationship, some time before he humiliated his beloved in that sick, sadistic way of his. It was the cold winter evening, wind swiping through the deserted city; the snow was relentlessly falling from the cloudy night sky. It was approximately seven o'clock when he made a beeline for Reno's workplace, lurking from around the corner in order to pop up upon seeing the redhead coming his way. It was his way of surprising his lover. They had plans for the evening, for which purpose Reno had brought a flat screen television set, together with the DVD player to Yazoo's place and connected the cables. Yes, it was supposed to be their movie night, something Yazoo was only beginning to enjoy, so his way of surprising the redhead wasn't much of a surprise at all. But he liked to think of it that way. If nothing, his appearance in that fashion would add up to his sinister and intimidating image.

He did as he had planned to do, appeared seemingly out of nowhere, seeing his lover blow in his hands for warmth. He stood before Yazoo, unfazed by his sudden appearance, and beamed that goofy yet somehow alluring smile of his, and, in turn, surprised _him_, by saying, "So, should we head to the supermarket?"

With their plastic bags full of groceries, they were going to the remnant's apartment on foot. The Turk's nose was red from the cold, sharp air, his ears as well. Yazoo observed his figure as he enthusiastically moved forward; the high collar of his coat that kind of made a serious air around him, the silver earring in his bright red earlobe, knuckles white from the weight of the plastic bags, his cheerful walk, and the air he exhaled into the (un)pleasant winter evening, all of it gave such an overwhelming picture of his lover, of the situation, that he had to avert his gaze and catch his breath.

The Turk seemed to be happy about something and he wasn't planning on telling him, Yazoo could tell, but he didn't particularly care. The entire Reno's demeanor screamed: you'll see for yourself, and he was, indeed, waiting to discover that wonder, albeit indifferently. They arrived after fifteen minutes of walking, and he climbed his steep flight of steps first, to unlock his little temple. A warm puff of air collided with his face upon entering the small apartment, his eyes meeting with warm peachy colors of his walls. Just before it had started to get cold and to snow, Reno had made him paint the walls of the entire dwelling into this warm, peach color, and he had even helped. Why he thought of this color as warm, he couldn't tell, but upon seeing it and feeling the warmth at the same time, especially because he had come from the bitter cold, it felt overpowering. The skin on his face and fingers tingled pleasantly, as the warmth slowly crept up his body, giving him the different kind of goosebumps. Around that time he also felt a bit hungry.

He made a small, quick step, since Reno pushed him to let himself in and close the door behind. "The warmth's all gonna go out, yo!" he protested, albeit weakly, without any intention whatsoever to sound angry or actually feel that way. The remnant bent down to undo his boots, the bags lying on the floor, and when he got up, he met with his lover's face. It had started to gain color once again, a bit pinkish if he took a better look, warmth affecting the redhead too, it seemed. He had a satisfied, elated expression on his face, something was on the verge of coming out of him, as if he had a slingshot somewhere deep within him, and was ready to release whatever it was that he was hiding inside. That was the moment when he felt it surge within him, too, starting from his legs up to his belly and his chest, increasing his heart rate.

Reno smiled at him and dropped his bags, still in his boots, and launched himself at Yazoo. He cupped his face between his still cold palms, pressing their lips together fiercely, having that contented smile all the while. This must be the surge of some sort of unreasonable happiness, Yazoo mused, elated himself, yet too confused to notice the state he was in. But he easily complied, hugging Reno around his shoulder blades, holding him as close as he could, returning the kiss just as eagerly. And then they let go of each other and became composed once again.

However, there was still that old feeling of enthusiasm left in Reno, who wasn't being idle, and he immediately, with an unusually cheerful voice, started to order around. They left the bags on the counter in the kitchenette and rushed to wash their hands, for, apparently, they were to make the dinner together, he reasoned. Somehow, Reno's bossy attitude that evening seemed perfectly in place, and he followed.

"We need to tie your hair" the Turk said, "Do you have a hair band or something?" he inquired, looking as if it was the biggest problem in the universe. When that was done, they made their way to their groceries, deciding what to leave in the refrigerator, and what they would use for making dinner. Strangely, this routine seemed pretty entertaining and calming, and his frozen toes got warmer as he followed his talkative lover.

They decided on a simple meal, spaghetti and some sauce to go with it, but all he got at the moment was a mug of hot chocolate, being shoved into his hands and the feeling was exhilarating.

"First we drink, then we cook. I learned some tricks from Rude, but I dunno if it's gonna work or not, ok?" Reno said. Yazoo just let the dense, sweet liquid invade his esophagus and said nothing. All of it appealed to his senses immensely, being engulfed in such colors, smells, and tastes, that he felt too lazy to talk. Next, Reno showed him how to cut this, how to stir that, all the while saying how it would feel pretty amazing even ordering pizza, but that the charm lay in making your meals yourself. Yazoo couldn't care less, since he really didn't mind, at that point, doing anything Reno told him to do. He followed blindly, deeply concentrated so as to make things right. He could not help but notice the excitement on the redhead's face, but also a bit of apprehension there as well. His bony, broad, masculine hand, with nails trimmed just right, was stirring the sauce slowly, carefully, the blue eyes fixed upon the stove. And that was where it hit him, the thing Reno wanted to teach him that way; to be able to feel happy about the smallest of things, such as going back to a small, warm home with the pleasant atmosphere, doing things with your lover, working on making it cozy and comfortable in this little fort of theirs, a small unit of happiness, protecting from the bitterly cold, vast, foreign, hostile world of loneliness, wars, and other people. It all hit him at once. It didn't seem fair, somehow, to let the apprehension invade their space, he caught himself thinking.

It was strange for him, but at that time, he was also glad he felt the way he felt. At that time, it was his objective to warm up to human life and learn to feel human emotions, so he blindly followed and believed that Reno could deliver all of it. He was also able to be emphatic that evening, but only then and ever since then, nothing. But during that time, for the first and the last time in a long while, he was a considerate adult, understanding Reno's train of thought all too well, knowing that the Turk felt uncertain about them, about his efforts, and wondering whether he, the mere soulless remnant, would be able to appreciate this evening. Reno wanted to make things close to perfect, since achieving perfection was in itself impossible, but in all that rush, he was forgetting to enjoy it himself. The silver haired man couldn't let that happen and he waited patiently for the stove to be turned off before whispering, huskily, into Reno's ear, while putting a hand on the small of his back, "First we fuck, then we eat". And, even though Reno had entirely other plans for the evening, when it came to making love, as always, he easily complied.

So in the end, after their always eventful lovemaking, they ate their dinner, and returned to bed, where Reno lay on his stomach, with Yazoo strangely attached to him, his hands around his belly, halfway on top of him, kissing his back lightly that the redhead could barely feel it, and then simply let his right cheek rest there, lost somewhere in thoughts. All of this, later on, the redhead conveniently let the oblivion devour, being too uncertain about Yazoo, not truly trusting him, and only started to fall in love after that sleepless night, when Yazoo was driving him around, in order to help him fall asleep.

Knowing all that, Yazoo took the blow and didn't hold grudges. He didn't even trust himself, how could anyone else trust him? Up until recently, he had only the recollection of Reno beneath him, staring randomly into the empty space beside the bed, and himself feeling his lover's sadness through his breathing and stiffness of his skinny body.

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He was now in the bed next to him, years from then. Reno was in a deep sleep on the other side of the bed, his back facing him. The remnant was leaning over him, wondering why he couldn't wake up, since it was said that if somebody or something was staring at you, you would immediately sense it and wake up. However, he didn't want to disturb Reno's sleep. It was just that the very fact that he didn't possess the level of alertness he used to, witnessed how actually exhausted he was. He even let it show on his still young face (that man never seemed to age, now nearing his thirty-first year of being in existence), Yazoo observed and thought, for the second or third time in his life, that it would be nice if he could do something similar for Reno, as he had done for him years back.

A lot of things had happened. Before Reno could execute his plan, the remnants and their band of mercenaries (that was the first time the redhead heard about the group being called a band. It was one of those silly basic things one mysteriously didn't know about; every person had one of those, like, believing in ogres even though they grew up, and so on), were quicker, and they first contacted Rufus. They offered their alliance and so, the young head of ShinRa Corporation hired them to be his mercenaries every now and then, doing odd jobs, like assassinations, or ones to subdue the riots in the city, if necessary. All of this led to many people being fired, including Reno, whose friend, Rude (after many months of thinking about whether he should report Reno for his homosexual behavior with the subject (yes, he had discovered it, Yazoo made sure of it)) made sure he got fired, trying to justify his actions by repeating over and over again that he was just doing his job.

It had all happened in a matter of days. Reno moved to his apartment, no bigger than Yazoo's incinerated one, but still more presentable, and for a long time had the trouble finding any job. However, after being shortly employed at Tifa's, he found a better and well-paid job as a manager of one night club. Not exactly what he'd had in mind, but it was still something. Yazoo was coming and going, and whenever he returned with his squad, he was staying with Reno, continuing where they'd left off. Surprisingly, their relationship started to take the shape of a real one, until Yazoo took off again, and the vicious circle never ended.

Reno never wanted to talk to Rude, naturally. It was out of the question. He would often tell Yazoo that he was grateful for him entering his life, because he reminded him of the drawbacks of being loyal, of lying to oneself that the world was kind of fair, when, in fact, it wasn't. That was the fact he had conveniently forgotten along the way, because it didn't apply to him, but then, Yazoo served as an eye-opener and Reno was glad. With his pride shattered, him being exposed by his best friend and colleague, ridiculed, and thrown out like the lowest of the low, he never stepped over ShinRa's threshold, even when they, a year later, hypocritically, offered him the place of a martial arts trainer for the rookies. With the company's betrayal, his belief in effort and hierarchy collapsed miserably, leaving him without pretty much anything but his bare hands. Still, he lived on, and rose again, prospering little by little, but never actually feeling relieved.

Being thrown out of the company he had dedicated his life to, left without his best friend, he was forced to make new friends. The tension between Cloud and him lessened a bit, but with him always having to turn down Cloud's advances. Every time he found a girlfriend and Yazoo appeared he would leave her without a second thought, choosing him, always _him_. And the circle never ended, he was never happy, and now he was sleeping beside his sometimes lover, whom he loved very much, but not enough to leave everything and become a mercenary, which was a hot topic right now.

Yazoo gently pressed himself against his back, wrapping his arms around him. Reno, with slightly opened eyes said, "You stalking me again?" and smiled.

"Hn" replied Yazoo, burying his face in the nape of the redhead's neck.

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There was also another hot topic, and that was Reno's desire to find a permanent partner and start a family.

"I told you a hundred of times before, we can't go on like this!" Reno yelled. "I want to be able to have my own family, my own children someday. You can't provide that, can you? And we definitely don't love each other enough to leave what we're doing, yo. You love your career, your career is you, and you would soon feel frustrated and unhappy being static here with me, and I, I can't go with you guys, because we would fall apart there, with me being miserable, and our judgment would always be subjective. You don't need that in your squad. Both of us prioritize our occupations over our relationship, so it is clear as day, Yazoo, that things should turn this way." This had been going on for a year, when Reno turned twenty-nine and had this kind of epiphany, which was quite reasonable, when you thought about it. They fought about it many times, and it always ended with Yazoo's sinister sentence: " Then I'll simply have to kill them, your offspring."

His words were always piercing cold, merciless, and his eyes frozen and so furious that they looked devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

"Just think about it, as Kadaj puts it, this all human crap is not for you."

"When you find it convenient to say so." Yazoo retorted venomously. "I'll kill them. I'll kill them all. You will not have them. No." he said calmly; it almost sounded like an order. And at that point, finally, Reno realized that he had always been Yazoo's obsession. He had been thinking a lot about it, and when those fights ensued, he finally confirmed it. The poisoning—Yazoo had been jealous of those women he had been talking to. The shattered glass—his irrational fear that Reno would leave him. Them being friends with benefits for a while—his rationalization of events. All of them done by instinct and not reason, like an animal; Yazoo never knew the reason behind his actions hence never felt remorse. The feeling upon realizing this was both intimidating and satisfying. To be able to be loved so devotedly, albeit in a sick, twisted way. But he couldn't keep this going on forever, for it was meant to be just a fleeting moment in their lifetime, and soon he would have to somehow explain to him why.

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**AN:** It does seem a bit rushed, but it was done on purpose, and everything will be told more thoroughly later on I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please make sure to leave a review.


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